


A Contemporary Study of the Minor Romantic Poets

by harriet_vane



Category: Social Network (2010) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 16:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane/pseuds/harriet_vane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A college AU in which Andrew wants to date the wrong person, Jesse has a boring boyfriend, and Justin is a surprisingly good roommate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Contemporary Study of the Minor Romantic Poets

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't post this fic anywhere else, please don't distribute it anywhere, please don't put it on goodreads, and really really please don't link it to anyone being written about here. Thanks!

  
  
  
Jesse had got a single room for junior year which meant two things for Andrew. First, it was usually preferable to hang out in Jesse's dorm rather than his own room, which was rather full of Justin. Second, Jesse had adopted a stray cat from somewhere on campus and Andrew made a point of bringing it a treat when he visited, because otherwise the nasty thing would try to bite him.

Jesse had named the cat Hannibal for complicated Jesse reasons but Andrew generally thought of it as Cat or You Infernal Thing. It seemed to hunger for Andrew's blood, although it liked to curl up with Jesse and purr and probably give him fleas.

Andrew liked to curl up with Jesse, too, which was getting more difficult lately. Andrew had been busy with an undergrad theater production of The Importance of Being Earnest and Jesse had acquired a perfectly nice, if deadly boring, boyfriend.

"He's not boring," Jesse said, chewing on his highlighter. "He's nice. We do a lot of stuff together."

" _We_ do a lot of stuff together," Andrew grumbled, lying on Jesse's floor. He was glad Jesse had found someone but he also had discovered he resented losing so much time with his best friend.

"By 'stuff' I mostly meant sex," Jesse said, dead-pan.

Andrew made a face and snorted. "You clearly aren't spending time with him so you can _talk._ " Hannibal yowled and Jesse let the cat out into the tree outside the window.

"Andrew," Jesse sighed in the way he tended to when he disagreed but didn't want to start a fight. They weren't actually sleeping together, Andrew was pretty sure. Jesse was too terminally shy to even take his shirt off most of the time.

"Oh, but that reminds me – you'd go out with me, wouldn't you?" Andrew craned his neck from the floor to look at Jesse, curling up on his bed with a textbook that looked deadly.

"No," said Jesse. He didn't even think about it.

"What?" Andrew sat up indignantly. "What do you mean, no? You're my best friend."

"Dating your best friend is a terrible idea. Besides," Jesse added with a wry smile. "You'd break my heart."

"I would never."

"You fall in love twice a week."

Andrew huffed. "This time is different."

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "You haven't really fallen in love with me, right? Because that would be awkward with Patrick."

"You aren't in love with him," Andrew said certainly. He moved up to the bed, the better to drape himself all over Jesse and annoy him. "And anyway, no. It's not you."

"So?" Jesse asked, poking Andrew with his bare foot. "Who?"

"Don't make fun of me. This is serious. I'm _pining_."

"And you're so good at it. Sorry, sorry; okay. Who are you pining for?"

Sometimes it was a bit aggravating, having a brilliant and sarcastic best friend who knew all your flaws. "I think I'm in love with Emma," said Andrew. It was better to just blurt it out quickly like ripping off a plaster.

There was a pause. Andrew waited for Jesse to make fun of him, but Jesse didn't say anything, he just sat there with his highlighter between his teeth looking a little bit concerned.

"What?" asked Andrew. "Haven't you got a clever comment?"

"I just… Sure, why not, she's awfully nice," said Jesse. He shrugged and smiled in a way Andrew was absolutely sure was forced. "She's cute, you're cute. You'll have cute babies."

Andrew sat up. "You're worrying me, Jesse Eisenberg. What's wrong?"

"Nothing! It would be cool if two of my friends were dating, I guess. Congrats."

"There's nothing to congratulate me about yet." Andrew kept looking at Jesse, trying to figure out what was wrong, but Jesse was a tough nut to crack sometimes. He had an excellent poker face, and while Andrew could usually tell when Jesse was lying he couldn't always tell _why_.

"Ah," said Jesse. "So you fell in love during the show but you haven't actually told her yet?"

"I'm charming and adorable; I'll win her over," said Andrew. He waited, but Jesse still didn't make fun of him. He didn't say anything. "Jesse? This is not the time to make me doubt my charm and adorableness. Do you think she'll go out with me?" Andrew asked.

"Well, let's see. Charm, check. Adorable, check," Jesse said, pretending to read his book again.

Andrew elbowed him in the side a little bit. "You said _you_ wouldn't."

"I'm not Emma." Andrew glared at him. Jesse rolled his eyes. "Also, I have a boyfriend already."

"He's not _much_ of a boyfriend," Andrew said. Jesse elbowed him back. "He's fine, he's perfectly nice, he's dull," Andrew complained.

"He likes me," Jesse said calmly. "When I wasn't dating anyone you bitched about worrying I'd die alone with a cat. Now I'm dating someone and you bitch about him. I think you like to complain. I hope Emma likes whiners."

"It's not _that_ ," Andrew tried to explain. "I just…" It was complicated, actually, trying to explain that because Jesse was his favorite person in the world it was very important everyone should love him and think he was great, but that simultaneously none of those people were good enough to actually monopolize Jesse's time and take him away from Andrew. "I want you to be happy."

"He brings me lunch and he likes my cat. I don't know what else you expect," said Jesse. "It's not like I'm charming and adorable and British."

Andrew nodded. "I do have tremendous good luck in that department. Do you think Emma will go for me?"

"She'd be crazy not to," said Jesse. He shifted around a little bit, trying to free his arm from underneath Andrew so he could use his highlighter, but Andrew was feeling particularly limp and clingy. "I have actual homework to do," Jesse complained.

"That's ridiculous, thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue!" Andrew said, because sometimes when he dropped Shakespeare into a conversation with Jesse he got to win. "Why would you do homework when you could be talking to me?"

"Because I'm not a drama major and my homework involves actual _reading_ ," Jesse said dryly.

"You've made some terrible life decisions," Andrew agreed. "I'm very sorry about that. Did I tell you Justin set the microwave on fire reheating popcorn yesterday? I was lucky to escape with my life."

Jesse pretended to sigh but Andrew was absolutely sure he wanted to hear the entire story. "Doesn't it say right on the bag 'do not reheat?'" Jesse asked.

"He says directions are for pussies," said Andrew gleefully. "I don't know how he's managed to live to twenty years old without dying. If they keep holding a capella rehearsals in my room there will be blood, by the way."

"That is absolutely fair," said Jesse, and pretended to study while Andrew told him everything that had happened.

\--

Emma was extremely beautiful and clever and funny and wonderful and Andrew liked her immensely. She was also on her way to a study group, so Andrew pretended that he had a reason to go to the library too. He'd been there twice since he'd started university, both times because Jesse had gone missing, presumed lost in a pile of books.

"I've got to get a book for… You know, for class," said Andrew vaguely, waving his hand around.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Okay," she said. "Sure. How's the end of the semester shaping up for you?"

"Oh, fine," said Andrew. The nice thing about taking classes that were mostly drama and drama-related was that once the shows were over he didn't have much in the way of finals. Just a poetry final to take, and he wasn't worried about that. "I've got an essay to write on the history of American theater, but I'll probably just write 'Tennessee Williams' forty times and hand it in. Should be fine."

Emma laughed and Andrew beamed. She obviously liked him; this was going to be easy. "I have real finals, you bastard," she said. "You're coming to Aviva's party, right?"

"Obviously," said Andrew. "God knows if I'll be able to drag Jesse out of the house for this one. He always says he doesn't like parties."

"That's because he doesn't," Emma said. Somehow it was uphill across campus to the library and also uphill to Andrew's dorm. It shouldn't have been possible for it to be uphill both ways, really.

"It's fine," said Andrew. "I have years of experience dragging Jesse to parties. I think all I'll have to do is invite Patrick."

"Who's Patrick?" asked Emma. She clapped. "Are we making Jesse jealous? That's a fantastic plan."

Andrew wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. "Patrick is Jesse's miserably boring boyfriend. I'm not jealous of Jesse dating him."

"Wait," said Emma, stopping dead on the pavement. A pack of freshmen had to split in half to walk around them. "Jesse has a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I told you about this during rehearsals. They started dating over Christmas, if you can call that dating, which I don't."

Emma put her hand on Andrew's arm. "Are you okay?" she asked.

She was fascinatingly weird; it was one of the reasons why he liked her. "I don't mind Jesse dating someone boring, but I think he could do better," Andrew said. "Of course he thinks I'm being ridiculous, but he's fantastic and it drives me mad he doesn't know it."

Emma was staring at him weirdly. "And it's not… It's not, like, sad for you that Jesse has a boyfriend?"

"I don't need his attention every second of every day," said Andrew. He thought about asking Emma to go out to dinner with him but he wasn't sure the look she was giving him boded well. Maybe he needed some sort of grand gesture, or flowers, or something. "I can share him, however grudgingly."

"Share him…" echoed Emma, looking puzzled. "Well. To each his own, I guess." She took off for the library again, Andrew tagging along after her.

"So you'll be at the party, obviously," said Andrew. "What other sorts of things are you up to, besides parties and finals?"

"Oh, I'm helping with some costuming stuff for Carey's show," said Emma. "And planning a trip over the summer with a friend, and a ton of stuff." There were lots of people in the courtyard outside the library and Emma didn't bother ducking around them. There was something about her that made people move out of her way. Andrew had to elbow people a little bit to keep up with her.

"That sounds great," said Andrew. A crowd was definitely no place to ask Emma to go out with him. "You'll be around tomorrow, won't you?"

"Yeah, here and there. Studying, mostly," said Emma. She made a face like she was trying not to laugh at him. "You're not coming in to the library, are you?"

Andrew shrugged one shoulder. "Dry dusty academic books aren't really my thing, I find. If I need to know anything for class I just ask Jesse. He's better than google."

"Aww," said Emma. "Well, those of us who don't have Jesses have to go study." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek which was dishearteningly sisterly. Andrew frowned after her as she disappeared into the dark recesses of the library. He was obviously going to have to strategize.

Jesse would have some advice, probably.

\--

"Please come over," said Andrew. "Justin's sitting on the kitchen counter and playing guitar really badly and I might have to jump out of the window." Jesse was fantastic because he was practically the only person in the world Andrew didn't have to pretend to be cheerful around all the time.

"I have some homework," said Jesse.

"So in half an hour?" Andrew asked hopefully. Out in their kitchen-slash-living room Justin wailed something about not wanting to lose his girl. Andrew's bedroom was exactly large enough that he could spread his arms and touch both walls at once, which made him want to go and sit in the living room, except for how much Justin he'd have to deal with out there.

Jesse sighed. His sighs were a little bit hard to read over a phone but Andrew was fairly sure that was capitulation. "I have note cards to alphabetize," said Jesse. "In a few hours, maybe."

"You can do that here," Andrew said. "Please come and help me steal the common room back from Justin. Please. Please. _Please._ "

"How about after dinner?"

"Jessssssse," said Andrew, shamelessly whining.

"I'll be there in half an hour, oh my _god_ ," said Jesse, and hung up.

Half an hour was a ridiculously long time to wait for advice about Emma, Andrew thought. "Justin!" he shouted. "Will you let me borrow your car to go and get Jesse? It's only across campus!"

"Absolutely not under any circumstances!" Justin shouted back. "My car is off-limits, Garfield. The rule is no one drives my baby but me."

"It's only a banged-up old heap of junk," Andrew pointed out, but quietly, because if Justin heard he would stop driving Andrew to campus and occasionally to buy alcohol as events required. For all the disadvantages of living with a crazed music major his possession of an actual working car was a huge plus.

Jesse arrived just under thirty minutes later and sat down on Andrew's bed, looking mildly grumpy. "What?" Andrew asked innocently.

"There's something important going on, right?" Jesse asked.

"Where are your note cards?" Andrew asked, frowning at him. "Did you forget them? I've probably got some somewhere my mother bought me years ago and I've never touched."

"Oh, I… I forgot them," said Jesse. And then, unconvincingly, "Whoops." Andrew squinted at him, trying to work out what he was lying about. Jesse was usually lying about something, if only for a laugh. "So?" Jesse asked. "What's the emergency?"

"Emma," said Andrew, sitting down a little too close to Jesse so he could use Jesse's slightly pointy shoulder as a pillow. Jesse liked being snuggled, really he did, only he rarely said so.

Jesse managed not to roll his eyes. "I need advice," said Andrew. "You're my best friend; your job is to help me."

"Did you ask her out?" Jesse asked.

"I was going to, but she's so fantastic I was worried about just asking out of the blue. I think I need a plan. What do you think about flowers?"

"I think they make me sneeze."

Andrew laughed. "Would she think roses are sweet or pushy? I can't tell. She's so great. I don't want to disappoint her somehow."

"You're awesome, Andrew. No one is going to be disappointed in you. You always think you need to do these big showy things and really you just need to be yourself." Jesse petted Andrew's hair a little and Andrew sighed happily. Then Jesse's phone beeped and he stopped petting so he could look at it. Jesse frowned and typed something.

"Is something wrong?" Andrew asked.

"No. Just – no," said Jesse, with a sad-annoyed sigh.

Andrew considered for a second and then snatched Jesse's phone. "What?" he said. "No one's allowed to make you sad, that's unacceptable." He squinted at the message. "Why has Patrick sent you a string of sad faces?"

"Give that back," said Jesse, making a half-hearted attempt to reclaim his phone. "It's nothing. It's just… I was supposed to be meeting him for dinner."

"Did you skip a date?" Andrew asked, feeling secretly glad his bad days outranked Patrick, and simultaneously really guilty.

"Not an official one or anything, it's fine," said Jesse. "Give me my phone, I'll see him tomorrow."

"I'm sorry," said Andrew uncertainly. "I didn't mean for you to get in trouble, I just… I need advice."

"If I tell you that it's fine one million times will you please believe me?" Jesse asked. He moved his knee so his leg was pressed up reassuringly against Andrew's. "It wasn't an official date or anything and sometimes I cancel dates because I'm having a bad day, or it's raining, or the cat looks lonely, or I feel like leaving the apartment will fill me with crushing ennui that will destroy my will to live. At least I cancelled on him for a reason that makes sense this time."

Andrew frowned, concerned. "What do you do when you're worried you'll be crushed by ennui?" He hoped the answer would be that Jesse called him, because he was good at getting Jesse to smile when all he wanted to do was hide under the blankets and never come out. Jesse being miserable made Andrew miserable, too.

"I read a book," said Jesse, and Andrew frowned. "Or I force Hannibal to cuddle with me. Or I make tea. I like tea a lot."

"I could make you tea," Andrew offered. "I'm English so I'm brilliant at it."

Jesse pretended to frown. "You know I mean the drink, not the weird dinner snack time, right?"

"I'm brilliant at both if you're feeling sad. You aren't, are you?"

"I'm fine," Jesse promised again. "Okay. So. You need help with Emma?"

Andrew rolled his eyes to make sure Jesse knew he knew Jesse was awkwardly changing the subject before potential hugs could come up. Andrew was the sort of person who hugged nearly everyone without thinking about it; freshman year he'd been moving boxes into his room and feeling a little weepy and homesick – his parents had left nearly an hour earlier – and Jesse had wandered by and offered to help. Andrew had thanked him and hugged him, as much for his own sake as for Jesse's, because sometimes hugs were the only things that made him feel less like leaving his home country for four years was an amazingly stupid idea. It had been weeks before Andrew had realized that no one else on their hall was hugging Jesse, and Justin had tried to explain to him that Jesse was "prickly" and "standoffish" and "didn't like to be touched."

"He does," Andrew had objected. "He likes hugs."

"Only from you, dude," Justin had said, shaking his head, and Andrew had felt proud of himself and fond of Jesse and oddly… possessive might be the word.

Anyway, Jesse was never standoffish or prickly. He was hilarious and sweet and helped Andrew run lines for his shows and gave him advice on wooing Emma. When Andrew's rehearsals ran particularly late Jesse sometimes showed up with a sandwich and a fizzy drink for him – "I have to feed strays, it's a thing, I know, I have a problem," Jesse usually said, coloring – and sophomore year when Andrew had missed his mum so badly he'd sat in his room and cried, Jesse had shown up with Bedknobs and Broomsticks and a box of Party Rings which Andrew couldn't imagine how he'd found. Andrew put them on his fingers and crunched them morosely until Jesse let him lean on him – crawl mostly in to his lap, if they were being honest – and sigh a lot. It was hard to be heartbroken and miserable when someone was playing with your hair and asking why he insisted on calling cookies "biscuits." (The answer was, "Because they _are_ biscuits, you ridiculous American.")

It was slightly harder to cheer Jesse up, since he didn't much like most films. Being homesick and insecure seemed as if they were his default state some weeks. Andrew found ways, though. He persuaded Jesse to show up to some of the undergraduate drama department writers' meetings, since he was absolutely sure that within a few minutes Jesse would be so annoyed he'd jump in to the arguments and start writing things himself. That was a nice distraction, up until Jesse finished a play and then Keira decided she wanted to produce it and Jesse locked himself in his room for a week and wouldn't come out. After a particularly bad bout of Jesse being horribly mean to himself over a B in his literature course Andrew had secretly got Jesse's little sister to come out and visit. Jesse had started off horrified – "She's not old enough to take the train by herself! Andrew, she could have _died!_ " – and ended up drunkenly insisting after Hallie had gone that it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. He did poetry readings sometimes and Andrew sat in the front row and cheered until Jesse looked like he was going to die from mortification.

They took turns being miserable and sad and cheering each other up, including one horrible Christmas when Andrew's plane home had been canceled and he was so upset that Jesse had just sighed and said, "I guess you'll have to come home with me. My mom wants to meet you, anyway," and Andrew was too gloomy to insist that no, really; he'd be fine. Chanukah with the Eisenbergs was better than spending another twenty hours at Newark hoping his flight would be rescheduled, even if Hallie had beaten him twice at Monopoly and Jesse's mum sang a lot of Chanukah folk songs with her guitar.

Andrew had eventually got worried that while he was off kissing various girls and boys in the drama department whilst being terribly drunk at cast parties, Jesse was sitting at home with books trying to work out how he could sneak a cat into his dorm room. He needed someone to take up all his non-Andrew hours and tell him how wonderful he was, and Patrick did both of those things, which made it odd how much Andrew disliked him for it. Andrew had practically twisted Jesse's arm to make him go out with Patrick, who was polite and kind and thought Jesse was amazing. And then Jesse had started going off to do things with Patrick and he wasn't always in his room hanging out when Andrew needed someone to sit and chat to, and… It was secretly awful, but Andrew wasn't sure why or how to tell Jesse that without sounding like an absolute knob.

"Just be yourself," said Jesse again, abruptly bringing Andrew back to the present. "Emma likes you a lot. She told me so when she was drunk at your cast party."

"I don't remember that," said Andrew wistfully. "I wish I'd got to kiss her on stage. At least then I'd have a vague idea about… Well, about…"

"About how she feels?" Jesse asked.

Andrew nodded. "It's nerve-wracking. She's so smart and funny and wonderful. What if she thinks I'm an idiot?"

Jesse poked him in the side. "Emma doesn't think that. Emma likes you lots."

Andrew made a tragic little noise but Jesse was, unfortunately, mostly immune to his tragic noises when he wasn't actually sad. Jesse wiggled out from underneath Andrew and went out to the common room-slash-kitchen instead. "Are you sticking around?" Jesse asked Justin. "I was gonna get him a drink. He needs to replenish his fluids after all those crocodile tears."

"Hey!" Andrew objected from the floor.

"Nah," said Justin, hopping off the kitchen counter with his guitar. "We have a capella rehearsal tonight and if I'm late again Chris will kill me. I mean, it's not like they can perform without me, but if I'm late JC will be asleep on the floor and it takes forever to wake him up. Feel free to stick around, dude, but don't have sex on the couch. I have to sit there."

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Ha ha ha, as always" he said, grabbing a plastic cup out of the cupboard. He looked at it for a minute and then shouldered Justin aside so he could wash it in the sink.

"I'm not judging," said Justin, putting his guitar in a soft case he could sling on his back. "Someday Garfield is gonna make an honest woman out of you. I'm totally gonna cry and shit, and my band is gonna sing at the wedding."

"You're not a band!" Andrew shouted. "You sing terrible a capella full of puns!"

"That's not fair," said Jesse. "There's no such thing as good a capella."

"Hey," said Justin, grabbing his keys. "Some day Nothing But Treble is gonna be famous and you'll say you knew us when."

"Yeah," Andrew said. "I'll say I knew you when you were my slobby roommate who wouldn't do the washing up or lend me his car." He kicked his trainer disconsolately against the floor a couple of times but Jesse was distracted doing the washing up himself and Justin was leaving so lying on the floor didn't actually get him anything. He dragged himself up instead to do the drying for Jesse. They didn't have tea towels so he used a mostly-clean sweatshirt instead.

"I have a stray cat in my dorm and it's not this dirty," Jesse complained. He was actively taking things out of the cupboard to wash them, as if whatever Andrew and Justin had done wasn't to be trusted. "I don't understand why you haven't both died of hepatitis."

"We're young, we've got wonderful immune systems," said Andrew. "I didn't invite you over to do the washing up, by the way."

"Well, I don't know why you'd think I have anything useful to say about Emma. Just tell her you like her, ask her to dinner. She'll say yes, you'll get married, mazel tov."

Andrew tried to blow his rather floppy fringe out of his face. "But she… I mean, she's awfully clever… I just worry… Do you think so?"

Jesse looked at him fondly. "Sometimes I forget what a mess you can be," he said. "Do you have any idea how cute you are?" Andrew beamed at him and Jesse rolled his eyes. "Forget it, I shouldn't have said that," said Jesse, waving a bubbly hand at him. "Now you're going to be unbearable."

"You think I'm cute!" Andrew said, enormously pleased.

"Yes," said Jesse dryly. "If you need some kind of dating reference tell them to call me and I'll reassure them that you are, in fact, cute. Has Emma recently lost her sight, or something?"

Andrew bumped Jesse with his hip and Jesse frowned for a second, then blew a handful of bubbles at Andrew's face. Andrew stuck his arm in the sink and splashed him. Only he'd misjudged just how much water he managed to scoop up and it was less of a splash and more of a tsunami.

"My glasses are all covered in spots now, ugh, you're such a dick," said Jesse. His t-shirt was soaked, and he pulled it away from his chest with one hand, making a face.

"Sorry," said Andrew. "You can splash me back if you'd like."

"Can I just borrow a t-shirt instead?" Jesse asked. "I'll keep the splashing thing for some time when you really deserve it."

Andrew followed him worriedly back into his room. "You aren't really cross, are you? You can have all my shirts. I'll never wear a shirt again, if you'd like."

Jesse started to reply, visibly stopped himself from saying _something_ , and just shook his head. "That's a little drastic. Let me just—go away, leave the room, no one needs to see me with my shirt off."

"Don't worry about it, I've seen you without a shirt loads of times."

"Don't remind me," said Jesse, shooing him out and shutting the door. He came out again a minute later.

"Is that really necessary? I like you just fine without a shirt," said Andrew.

"No one likes me without a shirt," said Jesse. "I helped you get rid of Justin, I gave you some Emma advice. Do you need me for anything else or can I go?"

Andrew had been sort of planning on tricking Jesse into sitting on the couch with him and watching a movie, possibly whilst drinking tea. "It's not too late to call Patrick back, I suppose," he allowed reluctantly.

"He said he'd be around all evening," said Jesse, pulling out his phone. Andrew didn't mean to, but he must have looked just a little bit heartbroken because Jesse hesitated, and hesitated, and finally sighed and put his phone back. "It might not be a great idea to call him and then go over there wearing your shirt," he said. "He might be weird about it."

"You needed a shirt," said Andrew, trying not to beam. "It wasn't any sort of thing for him to worry about. I'll make you some tea and we can watch a Woody Allen film."

"You rent those just to lure me over here," said Jesse, but he sighed a little and sat down on the couch. "Lemon tea?"

"I have many types of tea," said Andrew primly. "I _am_ English. I even know how to pronounce 'herbal.' Hhhhhhherbal."

"That's why I love you," said Jesse, totally deadpan.

"I'm sure," said Andrew, and went to turn on the kettle.

\--

Jesse's phone beeped shrilly and he groaned underneath Andrew. Andrew hadn't realized they had fallen asleep until he tried to force his eyes open. They felt glued shut and his mouth tasted horrible and his neck hurt.

"Shoot," said Jesse. "I don't think I went home last night."

Justin's shoes and his bag were in the middle of the floor and the light outside the window had gone from pitch black to bluish purple. "Not unless you've moved my couch to your flat," Andrew tried to say, but it sounded more like, "Nnnnnnnah." Jesse made an excellent pillow, even if Andrew was going to be unable to turn his head to the left for the entire day.

"I have a class at nine, I need to go home and shower," Jesse said, trying to get out from underneath Andrew.

"Do you?" Andrew asked. "Skip it; we'll go to the cafeteria and have omelettes instead."

"Skip class," Jesse scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Besides, I… I'm having breakfast with Patrick. I promised because I ditched him last night."

Andrew's desire to keep Jesse all to himself warred with his desire to go to his proper bed and sleep until noon. "Fine," he said. "But you are coming to Aviva's party, aren't you? I'm going to ask Emma out and I need someone to hold my hand."

"No," said Jesse. "Parties, ugh."

Andrew started to sigh loudly because he _knew_ he could convince Jesse to go but Jesse was already grabbing his stuff. "I think I dribbled on you," Andrew warned him.

"It's not the first time," said Jesse. "Do your homework."

"Go away," said Andrew, and threw a couch pillow at him. Jesse laughed and let himself out.

Justin stuck his head out from his room. "I don't get it," he said. "You two know you have a perfectly good bed in there, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I was just going there, sorry for taking up the living room," Andrew yawned. His neck really hurt and he wasn't going to be able to talk Jesse into fixing it. He remembered suddenly that Jesse was still wearing his shirt and presumably Patrick would be annoyed at breakfast. Andrew winced. Jesse would never come out and complain but Andrew was going to feel guilty anyway.

Justin squinted at him. "Seriously," he said. "Do his parents not approve of you or something? Is this some kind of fucked up Romeo and Juliet stuff?"

"What are you talking about?" Andrew scowled. "Go away, I'm going back to bed."

"I just… Well, whatever," said Justin, shutting his door again. Andrew's first choice for a roommate had been Jesse, but Jesse had looked simultaneously panicked and miserable at his suggestion and insisted he needed a single. Justin, on the other hand, had magically overheard that Andrew needed someone to live with and volunteered on the basis that, "I can't live with my singing dudes. People already think they're gay for me." Justin had a really good number in the housing lottery and a car, so Andrew was happy to deal with him and spend most of his time in Jesse's room.

Anyway, Andrew had plotting to do – how to get Emma to go out with him, how to get Jesse to the party. He needed to nap and prepare himself.

\--

"Ahem," said Andrew, and then grandly, "She turns and looks a moment in the glass/ Hardly aware of her departed lover/ Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass/Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.'"

There was a smattering of applause around the quad. Andrew took a bow. "You aren't really trying to learn the entire poem by heart, right?" Brenda said. "Because it's really, really long."

"I can learn it," Andrew insisted. "I know the entire Rime of the Ancient Mariner and heaps of Shelley. Why shouldn't I learn this, too?"

Brenda shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know, I just think it's kind of… I mean, if you're going to learn poetry why is all about death? Why not learn something sexy?" They had a literature and poetry class in a few minutes, but lying around outside reciting was much more fun than waiting inside the lecture theatre.

Andrew flopped to the ground to sit on the newly planted grass in the quad. It was really nice outside, the first really nice day they'd had all spring. If it stayed like this spring break was going to be amazing, although he'd be in London, not here. "Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze/ a visitant that while it fans my cheek /Doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings," he recited, looking for what might have been the first buds that would turn to leaves in the trees overhead.

"Stop it," said Brenda, rolling her eyes. "Or at least do one I know. How about Shakespeare?"

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" Andrew asked immediately.

"Yeah," said Brenda, leaning back against the grass. "That one's good."

Andrew propped himself up on his elbow. There were lots of students out enjoying the sun. An impromptu game of ultimate Frisbee had popped up by the science building and Andrew thought about joining them because it had been a really long time since he'd done anything more physical than walking to class and back again. "It's not nearly summer yet, though," Andrew pointed out. "And anyway, he's secretly sort of insulting her in that sonnet."

"Don't ruin it for me," Brenda complained.

"Do girls honestly like that?" Andrew asked. "Poetry and all. Could I recite you a poem and sweep you off your feet?"

"Some girls," said Brenda. She frowned at him. "Why, are you planning to? Because I think if you did Jesse would challenge me to a duel and I wouldn't have the heart to shoot him."

"If Jesse ever tried to duel anyone it would end up like the one in Love and Death, where Woody Allen hides behind the other fellow. No, I mean girls, proper girls."

Brenda giggled. "Why am I'm not a proper girl?"

"Because you've got that terrifyingly grungy boyfriend," said Andrew promptly.

"Tell me what girl, then. I want to know who you're in love with today."

"Ouch," said Andrew, clutching his chest. "Everyone makes fun of me, it's not fair. I love _very deeply_ –"

"And briefly," Brenda said. "It's okay. If you didn't have flaws you'd be unbearable. I can hardly stand you as it is."

Andrew sighed and looked back up at the trees. "I'm going to ask Emma out tonight at the party. Jesse says I ought to just be myself but… Do you think a poem would help?" The world of the undergraduate drama department was so small that everyone knew each other; Brenda and Emma had done shows together, and presumably had some of those mysterious chats girls had in the toilets.

"Hmm," said Brenda. "With Emma? I don't know. She can be really romantic, but she also might just laugh in your face."

"You're not helping," Andrew complained.

She petted his hair. Andrew was really pleased at how his friends had all learnt that he liked that. "Emma's tricky," said Brenda. "She's great, though. I like her a lot. Do you think she'll say yes?"

"Jesse says she will."

"Jesse can't imagine anyone wouldn't love you." Brenda shrugged.

Andrew fumbled his phone out of his satchel. "You've reminded me, I need to send a text." He called up Patrick's number in his contacts and texted _Come 2 Aviva's party 2night!!!!!!_.

"Should we go in to class?"

"Ugh, if we must," said Andrew. "You're coming to the party tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it," said Brenda, sitting up and brushing some dead leaves off her dress. "My favorite part of the night is when you get drunk and stand on a table and sing."

"Once!" Andrew objected. "That happened _once_."

"It's a good thing youtube is forever," said Brenda, offering him a hand.

Andrew let himself reluctantly be pulled up. "There will be no singing tonight unless Justin tags along," he vowed. "Although there might be drunken declarations of love. Dutch courage might be called for."

"Don't get so drunk you throw up," Brenda counseled. "Or sing. Or put on Aviva's heels. You almost broke your ankle."

"I," said Andrew with great dignity, "can walk in _any_ heels. It's Robert who almost broke his ankle, because he is a gangling great mess. I am lithe and graceful like a cat. I did gymnastics as a child."

Brenda giggled. "I did gymnastics and ballet," she said, "but I don't remember the class where they taught the boys to walk in platform heels."

"It's at a very advanced level," said Andrew, picking up his satchel. He grabbed Brenda's hand a little anxiously as she started walking toward the door. "Do you – Do you think it'll go well? I really… I really like her. She's amazing. She's so clever and funny and brilliant and I… I don't mind making a fool of myself, but I –I – I don't—"

"Hey," said Brenda, squeezing his hand. "The worst she can say is no."

"Yeah," Andrew agreed, reminding himself to breathe.

"And if she does you still have lots of friends who love you and will get you trashed. I'll call Jesse and guilt him into coming so you have a safety blanket, just in case," Brenda offered.

Andrew kissed her cheek. "I adore you."

"I know," she sing-songed. "Of course you do."

"I invited Patrick, so he'll probably bring Jesse along anyway."

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Right, because what Patrick wants is to take Jesse to a party you're at. Let me handle this."

Andrew winced. "Does he hate me?" His stomach flopped a little bit at the thought.

"You're… Uh, you know how you're my favorite person? Well. I think it's safe to say you aren't Patrick's. Anyway. We are officially late for class, you jerk."

Andrew hated the idea of anyone hating him, so he threw his arms out. "Am I to leave this haven of my rest / This cradle of my glory, this soft clime /This calm luxuriance of blissful light—"

" _So lucky_ you're adorable," said Brenda, and dragged him inside.

\--

"So I decided to go to the party," said Justin loudly from his room.

Andrew was standing in front of his mirror trying to make his hair do something more sensible than stand straight up. "Of course you did," Andrew called back. "You're my sidekick, you have to come with me."

"Yo, yo, yo, for the millionth time _I_ am not the sidekick," said Justin. He stuck his head in Andrew's door. He was wearing a smart waistcoat and specs he didn't need and _his_ hair looked perfect, as it usually did. "I'm Turner, you're Hooch. I'm Conan and you're Andy. I'm Ronald Reagan, you're an orangutan."

"You're delusional and it's really cute," said Andrew. He gave up on his hair. "Are you auditioning for some sort of play?"

Justin held his arms out proudly. "I'm picking up grad students, is what I'm doing. Don't I totally look like a dude who can talk about Proust?"

"Why not," said Andrew agreeably. "Who are you going to talk about Proust with?"

"My TA. I need at least a B in that class and the last paper I wrote…" Justin whistled a noise like a bomb falling and ended with a nice exploding noise. "But I have crib notes about Proust on my phone and my glasses and I'm good to go." He held his fist out and Andrew bumped it.

"We should go, Hooch," said Andrew. "Are you driving?"

"Hell no, I'm drinking. Do you think I look smart? I do, right? If I wear glasses I kind of look like Jesse, right?" Justin held the front of his waistcoat with his hands and tilted his head back so he was looking at Andrew through his ridiculous glasses. "But I mean, not _too much_ like Jesse, because I'm kind of hoping to pick up Mila tonight."

Sometimes Andrew couldn't quite be mean to Justin because underneath all the hair gel and girls and leaving his expensive trainers everywhere Justin was really quite sensitive. Jesse had made him cry once. "I mean this in the nicest way possible; you look nothing like Jesse," Andrew said, knowing it would sound like a compliment to Justin. "You look very posh. I'm sure your TA will be impressed."

"Rad," said Justin. "Okay, let's go. Did you trick Jesse into showing up?"

"Brenda did," said Andrew, wondering if Patrick was going to be there too. Maybe he could apologize to Patrick for whatever it was he'd done to him. People generally liked Andrew and he wanted it that way; having someone cross with him was a terrible feeling. He _had_ perhaps monopolized Jesse's time and he _could_ have been friendlier to Patrick once they'd started dating. But he couldn't help being a little bit jealous of Jesse's time, could he? He'd apologize tonight if he got a chance. He was good at apologizing.

Justin tugged on his arm. "Come on, Hooch. We don't want to be late for your boy. If you're not there he'll probably run away. Dealing with big drunk crowds on his own is _not_ Jesse's fortitude."

"Forte," corrected Andrew absently, grabbing his jacket and following him out the door.

It was cold and dark outside, as if the night remembered it was still technically winter even though the day had forgotten. Andrew shivered and pulled his scarf around his neck. Justin began complaining immediately, because he was from the south and apparently it never got cold there and three winters up north had done nothing to get him used to them. Andrew mostly ignored him, thinking about Emma and what he was going to say, and Jesse and Patrick.

Aviva's house was already loud, all the lights on, kids making out on the lawn. The stereo was rattling the windows and the hum of conversation was deafening as soon as they opened the door. There was a general shout of greeting for Justin, who knew absolutely everybody and had slept with most of them. Somehow very few of them wanted to kill him, which Andrew didn't entirely understand, since he was extremely fond of Justin and still wanted to murder him every few days.

Andrew grabbed a shot off a friend and dropped his jacket and his scarf in the pile near the door. He saw a flash of red hair that was probably Emma and ducked through the crowd after her. He had to elbow past a few people, and it seemed like everyone wanted him to stop and say hello. He managed to grab a second drink off Kristen and nod hello to Rob and follow Emma into the kitchen where it was a little bit quieter. There were still lots of people, though, and Andrew's heart pounded in his ears. He didn't particularly want to be shut down with any of the kids from last semester's show watching.

Emma, obviously, looked fantastic. "Andrew!" she said. "Hey! Jesse's upstairs with that blond guy. His boyfriend? You said he has a boyfriend, right?"

Okay, Emma looked fantastic and a little bit tipsy. She a red plastic cup in one hand that was half empty. She threw her arms around Andrew in a hug, sloshing a little bit of beer down his back. He didn’t mind because he was distracted by the way her breasts were pressed against his chest. "Jesse's got a boyfriend called Patrick," Andrew said. "I don't think he likes me much."

"No," said Emma sadly. "Probably not." Someone pushed behind them and he and Emma had to crowd against the table to let them by. Andrew didn't really mind that, either. She smelled amazing, she looked amazing, she _was_ amazing. Andrew felt an overwhelming surge of nervousness.

"I'm very likable, aren't I?" Andrew asked. The party was so loud and he felt like people were watching them. He leaned on the table so he could hide the fact that his hands were shaky. He smiled and Emma smiled back. That was encouraging.

"I like you," said Emma, leaning against his shoulder. "You're fantastic."

"I like _you_ ," said Andrew. Flirting: check and check.

"No, I really like _you_ ," Emma said, laughing.

There were a lot of speeches Andrew had rehearsed, mostly stolen from movies, and a couple of poems he'd picked out on Brenda's advice but he was feeling panicked and she was right there and she _liked him_. He ducked a little bit, leaning in, holding his breath to see what she'd do. She just smiled at him and didn't move away. So he kissed her.

It seemed perfectly logical; Andrew was good at reading the way people moved and leaned and smiled when they were encouraging you to kiss them. And for a moment it was fine. Good, even. Emma's mouth was soft and a little bit sticky from lip gloss and a little bit sour from beer. He could have kissed her for hours, for weeks, for months.

Then she pulled back, eyes wide, and said, "Um. What was that?"

She didn't sound _horrified_ but she didn't sound thrilled, either. "You like me and I like you," said Andrew, still smiling. Emma still looked a little bit confused. Andrew tried, "You're really great and I just thought… Sometime we could go and see a movie, or—"

"Oh, Andrew, I…." Emma shook her head. "Um, I don't think that's such a good idea."

Andrew's stomach plummeted. "Why not?" he asked, trying hard not to sound whiny or hurt. Friendly curiosity, as if it were just a question and not something that made his stomach feel like it was being tied into knots.

"When I said I liked you I meant… Not in a dating way…" Emma looked genuinely apologetic. Andrew was suddenly horribly aware that lots of people were watching them after all. "I just, I like you so much as a friend, and I think anything else would be a really bad idea." She was holding her beer in front of herself like a shield.

Well. At least he hadn't started off by declaring his love. Andrew made himself swallow and then smile and shrug. "Sorry, I'm a little drunk." He hoped she'd accept the lie and not call him out on it. "I can't help myself when pretty girls say they like me."

"Right, totally, of course," said Emma, but she backed off a tiny bit more. "I just really think we make better friends, okay? I hope I haven't hurt your feelings or anything."

Her apologetic tone, like he was a puppy she'd kicked, was actively making him feel worse. Andrew wanted to throw up, but he thought it would be best if he got drunk first, so he had an excuse. "No, of course, it's fine," he said, gritting his teeth a little and wondering how insane his smile looked.

"I'm so sorry," Emma said, and that was _worse still_.

"I'm… I'm going to go find Jesse," Andrew said, and fled ungracefully out of the kitchen, past all the people who'd been watching the whole thing with interest. Everyone was going to be joking about it tomorrow; theater kids loved to make out with each other at parties, but even more they loved to discuss who'd been doing what when they sobered up the next morning.

It wasn't so bad, he told himself, but he didn't believe it. There was something horribly wrong with him, with something he'd said or done, and a girl as elegant and brilliant and clever as Emma didn't want anything to do with him. Which wasn't what she'd said, obviously, but that was how it felt, like a dagger in his chest and a kick in the stomach, and it was a little difficult to get his chest to work properly and let him breathe.

He ran headlong into Brenda, who was halfway wrapped around her horrifying boyfriend. "Andrew!" she said, and he smiled and mumbled something that might have passed for hello before he pushed his way through the raucous crowd up the stairs. There were bunches of couples pressed against the banister, kissing, and they made Andrew want to hit people.

At the top landing there was a tray of shots sitting unguarded. Andrew grabbed one downed it, and then another because he didn't feel anything yet. Someone handed him a beer which he took gratefully and downed half of before he started pushing doors open looking for Jesse. There were couples making out in the first room, and the second room was Aviva's bedroom, where the male half of the cast of The Importance of Being Earnest were trying on Aviva's dresses. The third room was someone else's bedroom, and there were more drunk people kissing and getting naked.

The lights were off in the last room and the door was mostly shut. Andrew pushed open the door and felt suddenly dizzy. "Jesse?" he said, louder than he'd meant to. "I hope you're around here somewhere; I'm about to be seriously drunk."

"Are you okay?" asked Jesse's familiar, nervous voice. "Oh no. What's wrong? Something's wrong."

Andrew was still working really hard to smile, so he drank the rest of his beer and waved someone down behind him in the hall to hand him another. The nice thing about theater parties was that someone was always ready to give you a beer. "I need to be terribly drunk. Are you lurking alone in here on purpose or can I join you?"

"I'm not very good at parties," Jesse confessed, ushering him in. "I just go find somewhere dark to hide."

"Shouldn't Patrick be here with you?" Andrew asked. "I'm sorry, I'm not interrupting some sort of dark-room assignation, am I?" There was a miserable idea. He'd been turned down and now he was interrupting and Patrick was going to hate him even more. Everyone probably hated him. His smile got a little wobbly and he wished he could get a hug from Jesse without incurring more of Patrick's wrath.

Jesse laughed. "More like you found my secret hiding place, which I'm not really surprised about. Patrick went to go find some people he knows, and I said uh, that I'd probably just stay here. In the dark. By myself. Which, for the record, he thinks is kind of weird. But there are all those _people_ out there."

"You need this more than I do," said Andrew, handing Jesse his beer. The room was definitely starting to spin. Jesse looked a little dubious so Andrew said, "Drink! Go ahead! I can't bare my wounded soul to you while we're both sober. I'll go and get another."

"No," said Jesse, and Andrew was prepared – seriously prepared – to use his heartbroken sad face because he was _actually heartbroken_ \-- when Jesse added sheepishly, "There's a cooler under the bed. I uh. I found it and had one. So you can shut the door and we have all the beer we need here."

"You're my favorite," said Andrew. Jesse laughed and tossed him a beer and Andrew shut the door, following Jesse over to the bed. "No, honestly. You are the only person I like."

"You like everyone," said Jesse. The bed was covered in jackets, which he picked up and began folding to put in piles on the floor. Andrew climbed on the bed and started just throwing things on the floor left and right. "It's one of the things I like about you."

"No," said Andrew, sitting against the headboard with his arms around his knees and his beer cradled between his trainers. "You're the only person I like in the whole entire world."

Jesse sighed and sat down next to him, after a last abortive attempt to put things in piles. "Something bad happened, huh? How many beers bad?"

"At least five more," said Andrew, choosing to ignore the shots and the beer he'd already had. "You know how you said Emma would think I'm great?"

"Ohhhh," said Jesse. "Oh no, what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it for at least two more beers." Andrew tugged on Jesse's arm until he moved closer to Andrew. Hugs seemed like a better idea the more Andrew drank. Patrick shouldn't be the kind of person who left Jesse alone in a dark room at a party if he wanted to keep Jesse to himself. Andrew put his arm around Jesse so he could put his head on Jesse's shoulder.

Jesse opened a can of beer. "Right. Well, if you think it'll help." He took a drink and then made a hilarious face and a disgusted noise that made Andrew smile in spite of himself.

"She said she liked me," said Andrew, and that sounded ridiculously pathetic so he finished his beer. The bed was spinning gently but Jesse was solid and holding mostly still so he didn't mind. "And then she looked… She looked like kissing me was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened."

"I'm sure she liked kissing you. Ugh, is beer always this gross?" Jesse grimaced and put his beer on the end table.

"She didn't. I kissed her, because I'm an idiot, and she looked horrified. She looked _sad_. It must have been the worst kiss of all time."

Jesse elbowed him. "I'm sorry, I’m not sure there's room on this bed for how sorry you feel for yourself."

"Don't make fun of me, she _hates_ me," Andrew moaned, closing his eyes. Jesse smelled almost as nice as Emma had. "I'm going to throw myself off the roof."

"No, you're not. That's what she said? She said she hates you?"

"Maybe." Andrew's beer had got empty somehow. Possibly drinking so much so quickly was a bad idea but he felt a little bit better about Emma, because it seemed as if it had happened a long way away and a good while ago.

Jesse shook his head. "Emma never said that. She likes you."

"She didn't like kissing me."

"Maybe you're a really bad kisser," Jesse said.

He was joking but Andrew's stomach knotted up again. "Maybe I _am_." Andrew sat up and the bed lurched underneath him. "Do you think I'm a bad kisser?"

Jesse laughed. "How would I know that? I've never kissed you."

"You could—"

"Andrew. No."

"That's what _she_ said," Andrew moaned.

Jesse sighed. "Based on my general knowledge of other people who have kissed you and not, you know, dropped dead of disgust, I assume you are a perfectly acceptable kisser and Emma must have had another reason for not wanting to make out with you."

"That's not very comforting." Jesse was usually the most comforting person Andrew knew; he knew exactly how to cheer Andrew up. "Couldn't you just pretend you wanted to kiss me, at least? Someone ought to tonight."

"How many beers have you had?" Jesse asked. He didn't move away, though.

"Jesse," Andrew wheedled. He was sure this was a good idea, even though he wasn't entirely sure why. "It's an experiment. It's for _science_. You like science." This was a really, really good idea, he was sure of it. It was going to make him feel better. Kissing people while he was drunk always made him feel better, and Jesse was his favorite person so kissing Jesse ought to make him feel a million times better.

"Andrew," Jesse replied, laughing just a little bit. At least he wasn't horrified by the very idea. Andrew looked at him hopefully. "This is a terrible idea. You're too drunk and I'm not drunk enough."

There wasn't really any way for Andrew to get closer to Jesse but he tried. "C'mon, then; have a beer and kiss me and tell me I'm not the worst person in the world. Worst kisser, I mean."

"I'm sure that's not what Emma thought," said Jesse.

"Because she ought to want to kiss me?" Andrew asked hopefully.

"You're so _drunk_ ," Jesse sighed. "I think I'd be taking advantage of you."

"You're not," said Andrew earnestly. "I only just started drinking, honestly. And I want you to."

For some reason that made Jesse go all still and quiet.

"What?" Andrew asked uncertainly. Maybe he _was_ already drunk. He was certainly having a terrible time reading people's reactions tonight. "I definitely want you to kiss me, Jesse. Please? Would you _please_ \--"

Jesse leaned in and kissed him. Andrew hadn't been expecting that at all. His mouth was still open to plead and then suddenly Jesse was there, lips dry and brushing Andrew's. Andrew almost didn't kiss him back, he was so startled, but he could feel how still Jesse was sitting, how his mouth seemed almost frozen in anticipation and he remembered suddenly how awful it had been when Emma hadn't kissed him back. This was _Jesse_. He was the best person Andrew knew, and he was certainly kissable.

Andrew kissed back cautiously, not sure whether Jesse's sudden bout of kissing courage would extend to doing anything but sitting there. Andrew put his hand on Jesse's thigh because that was where it was easiest to keep his balance. Jesse shivered and opened his mouth a little, and Andrew felt sparks racing up and down his spine. Andrew couldn’t help himself, he moved his other hand up to Jesse's jaw, tilting his face up a little bit so he could kiss him more deeply.

It felt good. In fact, Andrew had kissed plenty of people while he was drunk and this was definitely top five material. Better than that, maybe, when Jesse groaned against his mouth and Andrew realized one of Jesse's hands was clutching Andrew's shirt, knotting it up. It was an excellent kiss, the kind that would have made Andrew's head spin even if he hadn't already been getting drunk. He hadn't ever kissed Jesse before but there was something familiar, comfortable even, about it, and underneath that Andrew's dick was doing its best to get over everything he'd drunk and join the festivities.

"Jesse," Andrew whispered, drawing back just a little bit. He rested his forehead against Jesse's because he was sure if he gave him an inch Jesse would run away.

Jesse laughed, shaky and a little bit rough. "I don't think kissing you could have been Emma's problem," he said.

Quite suddenly Andrew wasn't interested in kissing Emma ever again. "Oh," he said. "Jesse, I think—"

The door opened and light and noise flooded in from the hall. Andrew hadn't realized how dark it was until he had to blink against the light. He hadn't realized how flushed Jesse's face was, either, or how bitten his mouth looked, or how badly Andrew wanted to kiss him some more.

"Jesse?" someone laughed. "You aren't still alone in here, are you?"

Jesse inhaled sharply. "Um," he said, high and strangled and guilty.

Why should he feel guilty? Andrew wondered, and then realized that was Patrick standing in the door, and Andrew's hands were all over Jesse and Jesse looked like someone who definitely hadn't been alone in the room.

"Oh," said Patrick, voice falling and then flat. "Oh, I guess you weren't. Hi, Andrew."

"Hi," said Andrew, pulling his hands back. He felt clumsy and disconnected from his own arms and suddenly very drunk and potentially about to be ill. "This isn't—"

"Shut up," said Patrick, sounding tired and angry. "I can't even – I'm going home." He turned and walked out.

"Shit," said Jesse. "Oh, _fuck_."

"That wasn't what I meant to happen, but Jesse—" Andrew started, but Jesse had already scrambled off the bed and was running after Patrick. Which made it pretty awkward for Andrew to declare what he'd just worked out; that he was entirely over his desire to kiss Emma, and every other person in the world. As it turned out he really only wanted to kiss Jesse, probably for the rest of his life.

"Crap," said Andrew, trying to push himself to his feet. The room was spinning and he felt dizzy and ill. "Jesse, wait, shit, I'm sorry." Jesse was gone, though, and Andrew was too drunk to run after him. All those shots had hit him all at once and abruptly he wasn't sure he could make it to the door.

"Yo, is this the make-out room?" Justin asked, bopping by with a dark-haired girl in tow. "Ho shit, dude, you look bad."

"I feel bad," said Andrew. "I'm going to vomit, I think."

"Fuck," said Justin. "Not on everybody's jackets, that's a serious party foul. Listen, babe, I got to take care of my boy, can I call you later? I swear I will. C'mon, dude, you need some water."

Why on earth was the one person being nice to him tonight Justin? Everyone else hated him or had run off or – God, what the fuck was he going to do about Jesse?

Justin was propping Andrew up with one arm. "You look shitty," said Justin frankly. "I leave you alone for an hour and some crazy shit happens, huh?"

"I wanted to kiss Emma," Andrew tried to explain. He was in a lot of danger of falling over. "Only she didn't want to kiss me. And then I kissed Jesse and I _did_ want to kiss him. That… That doesn't make any sense."

"Oh, dude, that makes _total_ sense," said Justin. "Of course you want to kiss your boy. Now you're gonna go throw up and then drink some water and shit won't seem so dark before the dawn."

"I'm so drunk that you make sense," said Andrew sadly, and let Justin drag him down the hall.

\--

  


"You're not dead," said Justin helpfully.

Andrew groaned and tried not to move in case his head fell off.

"I thought you might be wondering so I decided to stick around and make sure. You are one hundred percent not dead." Justin was crunching something and the noise made Andrew want to throw up, although his mouth tasted like he already had.

"I feel dead," Andrew told his pillow.

"Yeah. Well. You puked your guts out so that's probably why. There's water and Tylenol in the kitchenette if you make it that far. I have class."

Andrew moaned vaguely and it sounded like Justin left.

Eventually Andrew dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen. Water and toast and a couple of aspirins and a shower later Andrew felt like he could go back to bed and lie there for a while and his head wouldn't throb off entirely.

He remembered throwing up and he remembered coming home with Justin and unfortunately he remembered all the misery before that. That meant he had no excuse not to call Jesse except the horrible pounding in his head and the feeling that if he tried to make sentences his head would definitely fall off.

Justin banged back into the dorm a little while later. "Yo, you still in bed? Did you die while I was gone?" he asked loudly. "I heard if your roommate dies you get straight A's. I wouldn't mind that."

"I'm working up the energy to move," Andrew said. "I don't think I've died. You're a terrible angel, if I have."

"Who says I'm an angel, baby?" Justin asked, leering a little bit. "Seriously, are you okay? I thought you knew about pacing yourself with booze, dude." He threw himself on the couch and clicked the television on.

"I was trying to get drunk." Andrew sat up. The room wasn't moving around too badly although the noise from the telly was awful. "I suppose it's good Jesse left when he did. I don't think he'd be particularly romantically inclined after watching me vomit."

"That was cold, how he ran off when you were all sick," said Justin.

Andrew shook his head, and fine, _that_ was a bit of a mistake. "I've screwed things up for him and Patrick, I've got to go and apologize."

"So, wait," said Justin, frowning. "He for serious has another boyfriend who isn't you?"

"Yes," said Andrew. "But it's alright because I've worked out that I shouldn't be dating Emma; I should be dating Jesse."

"Duh," said Justin flatly. "Biggest duh _ever_."

"Yes!" said Andrew, and then regretted his enthusiasm. "Ow. Ugh, more water, please."

Justin waved idly at him. "Get it yourself. Wait, have you two morons really been cuddling on my couch all year and you weren't even getting any? That's _pathetic._ "

"No, it just… It just took me a while to work it out," said Andrew, thinking. "I should probably go and find Jesse as soon as possible, shouldn't I?"

"You mean three years ago when the entire rest of the world was like, 'Oh, look at those dudes who are totally in love?' Yeah, that's a great idea."

Andrew attempted to scowl at Justin but his head hurt too much. He lurched out of bed and drank some more water, didn't immediately want to die, and decided it was probably best to go over and talk to Jesse. Jesse had a way of working himself up in to getting upset about things and if he got himself all tied in knots it might take a long time to unknot him.

Andrew was suddenly very interested in unknotting Jesse. Shoulder rubs, maybe, and cuddles, and more kissing, because that had been excellent. It occurred to him that he'd been doing the first two of those things for years, and potentially Justin had a point about what they ought to have been doing since freshman year.

Very possibly, in fact, Andrew had an unexpected mental filing cabinet full of pictures of Jesse. Laughing, crying, being just mean enough to be mistaken for joking, telling improbable lies and then looking over to see if Andrew was laughing, saying brilliant things, saying stupid things, curled up on the couch in Andrew's flat with the flu looking miserable. Those weren't entirely surprising. Of course, Andrew also had mental images of Jesse accidentally shirtless, Jesse getting out of the shower, what Jesse smelled like, and the horribly adorably embarrassed face Jesse had made once when Andrew had opened his laptop and found porn on it.

Interestingly, Andrew's brain had been busily taking notes on Jesse's shoulders and his neck and his thighs and his hands while Andrew had been looking at Emma and Shannon and Joe and a few other people.

"I'm going to Jesse's," said Andrew. "Wish me luck."

"I hope you both get less _stupid_ ," said Justin, and turned the TV up.

Andrew hoped so, too. He grabbed his keys and wobbled outside, feeling at least seventy percent recovered. Andrew actually didn't drink too frequently, or at least not too much at a time, and he usually recovered by having Jesse bring him lots of tea while making fun of his low tolerance. Jesse must have been awfully upset if he hadn't called to see if Andrew was alright.

The walk seemed longer than usual, and Andrew didn't appreciate how bright the sun was or how cheerful everyone else on the quad seemed to be. Andrew was realizing bit by bit that he was in love with Jesse, which should have made the morning seem lovelier and the birds more tuneful. Maybe the problem was that instead of an earth-shaking revelation he'd just noticed something that had been creeping up on him for years. The birds had been singing for _years_ already. He'd just been deaf.

He knocked on Jesse's door feeling hopeful and oddly nervous, as if he hadn't barged his way into Jesse's room a million times before.

Jesse opened the door holding Hannibal, who snarled and hissed at Andrew. Jesse didn't look tremendously happier to see him; he also looked as if he hadn't slept. "Oh," said Jesse. "Hi."

He hadn't opened the door much. "Hi," said Andrew. He smiled hopefully because he _knew_ Jesse had enjoyed kissing him. His reaction had been written all over his face.

Jesse made a weird, anxious, upset noise. The door was still only open a crack. "What?" Jesse asked. "Because I'm kind of busy. So. Is there something, or…?"

"Busy?" Andrew asked, affronted and a little bit startled. "Busy with the cat?" The cat in question yowled to be put down. Jesse clutched it closer to his chest. He was going to get his face scratched off, Andrew worried.

"No, just… I have things to do. I'm busy… Uh. Studying. I should go."

Jesse was normally a much better liar than that. Andrew tried not to look too confused and heartbroken. "Why don't you want to talk to me?" he asked, since direct and sad worked on Jesse a lot better than beating around the bush.

Jesse grimaced. "I just… I just can't right now, okay? Last night was bad and I need some time to stop wanting to kill myself out of guilt."

Right, Andrew's original plan had been to apologize. "I'm so sorry Patrick walked in, that was awful, I never meant for anything like that to happen. Well… But…" Andrew tried to sound hopeful and not at all disheartened by Jesse's weirdness. "But it was a good kiss, Jess! I mean... Wasn't it?"

Jesse made another horrified noise and tried to shut the door entirely. Andrew threw his shoulder against it so he couldn't. "I have a _boyfriend_ , Andrew!" Jesse said. "I'm not supposed to kiss anyone else, _especially_ not you. Oh god, I am the worst human being alive."

"I know! And I'm really sorry about that, that part was awful. But—" _But I'm better than Patrick_ , Andrew wanted to explain. He knew that Jesse knew that, _agreed_ even.

"Anyway, I said 'have a boyfriend,' but I should have said 'had.' Because I don't anymore. He was my first boyfriend and I screwed it up just about as badly as anyone possibly could and… Just… Leave me alone to feel sorry for myself for a while, please."

The problem was that Andrew knew he ought to say, "Oh, I'm so sorry," and be sympathetic and comfort Jesse about Patrick. But instead he said, "But that's great!" His mouth was apparently not entirely connected to his good intentions. He blamed the hangover.

"You… What?" Jesse asked, opening the door to give Andrew the baffled and mildly annoyed look he normally saved for Justin.

"Well, I mean… If you haven't got Patrick then we haven't got any problems!" said Andrew, finally feeling properly excited. "I thought it was going to be awful, having to explain to him that actually this whole time it was me you wanted, but now he's gone so it'll be easy!"

There was a long pause. If Andrew had been slightly less hungover or less excited about Jesse – and Jesse's mouth, honestly, he couldn't stop looking at it, had it always been that fantastic? – he might have noticed a dangerous edge to Jesse's voice. "So you think I've just been sitting around waiting for you?"

"And all this while I've been a blind idiot," said Andrew promptly. "But I've worked it out now so we can both stop being so stupid and—"

"Oh my _god_ ," said Jesse. "You… That is _not_ … I haven't been just waiting around for you, you jackass!"

"Haven't you?" Andrew asked, confused, and then one second later his brain caught up to his mouth and started shouting at him that probably that was the worst possible thing he could have said.

"Go _away_ ," said Jesse, and shut the door in his face.

Andrew stared at the door for a minute. "Jesse!" he said. "I didn't mean it like that! Jesse!" He knocked a few times. He could hear Hannibal yowling inside but nothing else. "Jesse!"

He knocked again for a while until one of the other people on the hall stuck his head out. "Dude, I don't think he's coming back out," he said. "Could you maybe stop banging?"

Andrew scowled at him until he went back into his room. Then he pulled out his phone and texted Jesse _I will be back!!!!!!! Ps I'm sorry didn't mean it like that DON'T BE MAD AT ME_.

Well, Andrew thought, stomping back to his room. This was no way to begin a proper relationship.

\--

Jesse didn't answer any of Andrew's phone calls and he didn't reply to any of his texts. There were four days until spring break and Andrew spent one of them sitting in Jesse's hallway sending texts full of exclamation marks and "I'M REALLY SORRY"s. Eventually the RA on the floor came by and made Andrew leave, and even then Jesse didn't open his door.

It was awful.

Justin thought the whole thing was pretty funny, and he refused to commiserate with a beer because, "That shit caused all the trouble last time. No, seriously dude, just let him cool off for spring break and when you come back bring him some flowers or something. Or some books, I guess. Or a kitten."

Those were pretty good ideas, but Andrew felt like he was going to die. The longer he felt sad and miserable the more sure he was that he was actually in love with Jesse and that every other feeling he'd ever had had just been liking. He wouldn't have felt this ill over Joe or Keira or even Emma. He wanted Jesse and he'd never not been able to have Jesse before. Worse, when he was sad he wanted Jesse to cheer him up and he didn't know how to cheer himself up when Jesse was the problem rather than the solution. He skipped his classes so he could lie on the couch and try to figure out what to do. All he worked out was that he should call Brenda and ask if she'd bring him some food because their fridge was always empty; Justin had drunk all the beer.

Brenda was a saint. "Oh no," she said, looking at him sadly. She wrinkled up her nose. "You have misery face."

"That's because I'm miserable," Andrew said. "What am I supposed to do? My best friend hates me and I think I'm _in love_ with him."

"Weren't you in love with Emma a couple of days ago?" Brenda asked.

Andrew hadn't really stopped to think about that. "Fine, I suppose if I were Jesse that would seem a bit suspect, but it's different this time and he won't answer the phone so I can tell him so! Come in, sit down."

Brenda looked at his couch dubiously. "No, thanks. It smells like boys."

She'd brought him a burger and chips from the cafeteria but he didn't feel like eating ever again. He put them in the fridge. "How can I fix it if he won't even let me apologize?" Andrew moaned, throwing himself on the couch.

Brenda considered that for a second and then kicked him in the ankle. "He got _dumped_ and it's _your fault_ and all you're worried about is yourself, you jerk."

"No!" said Andrew. "I'm worried about Jesse as well." Jesse would be immensely happier once he had Andrew as a boyfriend. Andrew would be a much better boyfriend than Patrick had been. He adored Jesse and he knew all of Jesse's quirks and oddnesses.

"Have you considered trying to get him undumped?" Brenda asked, hands on her hips.

…he really hadn't. "But Patrick is _boring_ and Jesse likes me," Andrew insisted. Getting Jesse undumped was the opposite of what Andrew wanted.

"Because you're only thinking about yourself. Jeez, you don't get this at all. Jesse likes you because you're sweet and kind and British and stuff. So _be that guy_. The one he _likes_."

"Oh," said Andrew. That made a depressing amount of sense. "But I don't _want_ him to get back together with Patrick."

"That's okay," said Brenda. "I'm pretty sure you fucked things up enough that Patrick won't take him back. But a round of 'I'm sorry's would do your soul a lot of good. 'The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.'" He blinked at her. "What?" Brenda asked. "I pay attention in class, too."

Apologizing to Patrick sounded horrible. Worse, it sounded like something that would definitely make Jesse start speaking to him again. "'We decay like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief convulse us and consume us day by day, and cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay,'" Andrew moaned.

Brenda replied promptly, "Die, if thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek. Follow where all is fled!'" She gave him a sassy little wink. "Seriously, I'm getting A's, Andrew, don’t underestimate me."

"My mistake." Andrew made a face. "This is going to be awful."

"Stop doing awful things, then."

That was horribly good advice. Andrew was trying not to think about how much his own fault everything was, but there weren't a lot of ways around it. Behaving like a five-year old and whining about it would only make it worse.

Well, Andrew was nothing if not a person who could put a plan into action and look for the bright side of nearly anything. Potentially he could get Patrick to stop hating him, win Jesse over somehow, and end up with no one disliking him at all. "Do you think there's any chance he'll be speaking to me before I have to go home for spring break?"

Brenda sighed. "You're cute, and he loves you. Anything is possible. I wouldn't hold my breath, though."

"Right," said Andrew, trying to get himself excited for a horrible afternoon. "So. I should go and find Patrick."

\--

Patrick was in the library, which was lucky because Andrew had a feeling Patrick was no likelier to open his door when Andrew knocked than Jesse had been. Andrew felt a little bit ill. The more he thought about the past couple of months the more he was painfully aware he'd been a jerk, and while apologizing was clearly the right thing to do, it would have been a lot easier to just pretend the whole thing had never happened. Unfortunately Andrew really did believe in trying to make things better and keeping everyone happy. He was glad to be in the library for once; at least Patrick couldn't shout at him in here.

He took a deep breath and sat down across from Patrick at the table. Patrick was buried in a pile of books and note cards and pens. He looked up and his face went stormy and then blank.

"Hi," said Andrew, biting his lip. "I completely understand if you don't want to talk to me but I wanted to say how sorry I am."

Patrick made a complicated, unhappy face. "Thanks, but I really don't care," he said.

Okay, fair enough. Andrew was good at getting people to like him, normally, but obviously this wasn't going to be easy. "I've been a complete arsehole to you since you started dating Jesse, and I'm really sorry. I didn't realize I was… I didn't realize how jealous I was, but I should have. I've been awful."

"I was willing to put up with it, since you're his best friend and all," said Patrick. "Right up until the kissing part."

Andrew winced. "That bit was the worst. I'm _really_ sorry."

"Whatever," said Patrick. "Jesse said it was his fault. I have a paper to finish before I go home for break, so—"

The other students at nearby tables had been glaring at both of them since Andrew had come over. No one else in the library was really talking. One of them, a skinny boy with bad hair and glasses, hissed, "Shh!"

Andrew ducked his head apologetically and whispered, "He said that? No, that's… Uh, that's a very generous interpretation of events. It was me who asked him if he'd kiss me and it was me who insisted. Jesse said he had a boyfriend and it wouldn't be appropriate." Why was Jesse so ridiculously wonderful? Andrew really didn't need Jesse trying to take the blame for things that weren't his fault.

Patrick glared. "Yeah. Well. Whatever either one of you said, it was still shitty. Seriously, do you mind? I'm busy and I don't like you."

That was just about the worst thing anyone had ever said to Andrew, made infinitely more horrible because he deserved it. "I'm just… I wanted to tell you I'm sorry and Jesse really likes you and… Oh god, you should call him. Because I've been such a jerk and he hates me at the moment but he feels awful about you and it wasn't his fault and…" Andrew took a deep breath and called on all his skill as an actor to sound like he really meant what he was saying. "I don't want to have screwed things up with you for him."

Patrick gave him a really long look and Andrew tried not to fidget or squirm or burst into tears. He felt better for having said it but still bad about having to say it. Being responsible and adult wasn't usually this awful.

"You _want_ me to call Jesse?" Patrick asked flatly. "I don't believe it."

"I…" Andrew sighed. "He's not speaking to me; you really should. I deserve to be miserable at the moment and he doesn't."

"I'm trying to study, here!" hissed someone behind them.

Patrick flipped the other student off and didn't bother lowering his voice. Maybe he wasn't quite as boring as Andrew had accused him of being. "I'll think about it," said Patrick. "You know, I was really enjoying hating you. You're kind of ruining that."

"Sorry?" Andrew offered with a tentative smile. "I'm trying to figure out a way to stop hating myself, and then possibly getting Jesse to stop hating me, but it's a process."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "I don't think anyone seriously hates you. Believe me, I've been trying. Fine. I'll call Jesse. Now can this conversation be over, please? I have work to do."

"Thank you," said Andrew, feeling miserable all over again. If Patrick and Jesse got back together he was going to have to pretend to be happy about it or Jesse would _never_ forgive him. "And thanks for listening to me."

Patrick made a grumpy noise and waved him off. The kid at the table next to them said, "Thank _god_."

"I'm really sorry," Andrew whispered as he left. Patrick ignored him. That seemed fair.

\--

After that the only way to deal with the last days of school before break was to be as relentlessly cheerful as possible. Andrew went to class and gave bright smiles and big hugs to all his friends, who did him the favor of pretending they hadn't seen him melt down at the party. Andrew pretended not to notice Jesse sitting on the opposite side of the room from him in the classes they shared. It was a lot like smiling while you were being stabbed. Brenda cooed at him a lot and brought him tea, but it wasn't as good as the tea Jesse made him.

He'd managed not to drown in his own false cheer by the time people started to leave for spring break. Every few minutes he took his phone out of his pocket to see if Jesse had texted him back yet, whether it was _Sure I forgive you, let's make out_ , or _Don't die in a horrible plane crash_ , which he always texted before Andrew flew home. There were no messages at all.

Andrew tried not to dwell on it too much while he packed. There wasn't anything else he could do before he left; he'd abandoned the idea of standing outside Jesse's window with a boombox playing "In Your Eyes" as probably disrespectful to Patrick, and anyway Jesse hated public displays of affection.

It was actually quite nice having Justin around, because at least he was loud and distracting. He was packing up a ton of dirty clothes into a dufflebag, which was his idea of what to bring home over spring break. "Memphis is gonna be awesome, man," he said. "My high school girlfriend is gonna be home and she broke up with her douchey college boyfriend so I'm gonna go home and see if I can score on the rebound."

"You're a prince," said Andrew dryly.

"Plus all my boys are gonna be in town so we can hit all our favorite bars. You should come! I'm bringing Lance, before he goes off to Louisiana to wrestle an alligator or whatever people do there."

"I've told you, I've got tickets home, thanks," said Andrew, relentlessly cheerful. He smiled at Justin and went back to checking the status of his flight.

Justin looked dubious. "And you're all like… You're okay and stuff?"

"I'm packed, I've got two books to bring home with me I'm not going to read, I had lunch with Emma and it was barely awkward at all. Well. There was quite a lot of not talking about the party but then I told her what happened with Jesse."

Justin whistled. "And she was sympathetic?"

"She was surprised we weren't already dating," Andrew admitted. "At any rate that's all patched up and she's promised to try and figure out a way for me to make Jesse forgive me after the holidays."

Justin made a really weird noise like there was something he wanted to say, but he didn't know how to say it, but he'd started to say it and then stopped again. It was sort of like the vocal equivalent of a car wreck.

"What?" Andrew asked. "Oh no, what?"

"Nothing," said Justin. "Nothing. Nothing at all, not one thing, nothing."

"You're the worst liar I have ever met," said Andrew. "Justin, _what_?"

Justin looked up at the ceiling. "So uh, I was kind of hoping maybe you got over Jesse. Like you got over Emma. That would be cool."

"No," said Andrew slowly. "I have definitely not got over him. I don't think I'm going to."

"That sucks," said Justin. "Because this morning he and Patrick were sitting together in the cafeteria looking pretty cozy and happy and like… They were all, 'Call me over break! We can hang out!' And I don't know about you, dude, but I don't hang out with my exes over break. I hang out with my currentlys."

Andrew felt dizzy and sick. "That's good," he said, trying to sound upbeat. "They're nice people and they like each other and they should… I mean, Jesse didn't do anything wrong so it's nice of Patrick to give him a second chance. I'm happy for them."

Justin snorted, "And _I'm_ the worst liar ever."

"I want Jesse to be happy," said Andrew determinedly. "He likes Patrick so that's… That's nice. Look." He texted _Glad you and Patrick are happy_ and hit 'send' and then showed it to Justin.

"Dude, send all the texts you want, I can tell you wish you were dead." Justin put the last of his dirty clothes – which was all of his clothes – into his duffle. "You need a ride to the airport?"

"Yes, please." Andrew also needed his mum to make him a cup of tea, and to lie on the bed in the guest room that had been his bedroom for years before his mum had suddenly decided they might have guests. He planned to lie there, unmoving, for most of break, unless his mum could persuade him there was any point in going anywhere ever again. She was better at cheering him up than even Jesse was, but he was fairly sure his heart was broken. It certainly hurt.

Justin grabbed his keys off the coffee table where he usually left them lying around. "Okay. But after break if you aren't for reals cheerful I'm going to have to take drastic measures, man. Like… Like I don't even know yet. Drastic."

Andrew was oddly touched. "Thanks," he said.

"It'll probably involve alcohol and more puking, just FYI," Justin said. "Okay. Let's go."

\--

The airport wasn't terrible for once, and Andrew slept through most of his flight. His parents were late getting him at the airport but they were always late getting him at the airport and he'd learned to stop taking it personally. They asked him about classes and essays and the shows he'd been in and had he seriously considered transferring somewhere closer to home yet, and he answered with lots of bright, enthusiastic-sounding stories that he cribbed partially from Justin and partially from Brenda, because both of their lives sounded better than his at the moment. He didn't think they needed to hear about broken-hearted crushing disappointment.

Once they were home Andrew's mum brought him some tea and biscuits and he imagined just staying there on the couch, never leaving again (because honestly what was the point of university for acting anyway?) until his mum patted his knee and said, "And how's Jesse?"

They'd met Jesse of course. They'd come out to pick Andrew up at the end of freshman year and Jesse had been in his room, worrying about his flight home. They'd come out to one of his shows the next year and sat with Jesse in the audience, quizzing Jesse about why Andrew's marks weren't better and who he was dating. They'd sent Jesse a Chanukah present this year, along with a miserably embarrassing card to thank him for looking after Andrew.

In retrospect, Andrew thought perhaps they'd picked up on things faster than he had.

"Oh," said Andrew, "he's fine. He's got a boyfriend called Patrick and he's not speaking to me at the moment but it's all a big misunderstanding. It'll all be fixed when I get back."

"Oh dear," said his mum. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I don't want to talk about it. How's everything? Has Dad turned the shed into a tomb for old computer bits?"

She sighed. "He's got four disassembled computers out there and not enough parts to fix any single one of them, but he keeps picking them up off the neighbors for free and insisting he can use the parts from the older ones to fix it up. He can't, of course, and now I've got nowhere for my plants."

"Perhaps I can help him put them together again," Andrew said cheerfully.

"You'll smack yourself in the thumb with a spanner and have to go to the hospital," said his mum. "It's happened before. Remember when you and Ben tried to help him fix the car? He threw his back out, Ben was nearly electrocuted, and you dropped a hammer on your foot and broke your toe."

"But the car did start running again," Andrew pointed out.

She gave him a long, deeply worried look. "What's happened with Jesse, then? You two have never had a fight, have you? Is everything alright? I worry about you, sweetheart. You take everything to heart."

"Absolutely fine," Andrew lied. "I'm going to go and have a nap, I think. The jet lag always gets me coming this direction. Thanks for the tea."

"You're getting a hug before you go anywhere," she said firmly, and hugged him. There was obviously no substitute for hugs from his actual family, and for a second Andrew forgot that he was moping around being heartbroken and miserable because he had his mum. Then she said, "You are eventually going to tell me what you did to Jesse, aren't you? That poor boy."

"He might have done something to me, you know," Andrew grumbled. "He hasn't, but he _could have._ " He hugged her again because he had missed her hugs terribly and he hadn't been getting any from Jesse lately. "I'm going to go and lie down."

She called after him, "If you're still this sad in a couple of days I'm going to call Ben to come and bully the truth out of you. I'm _really_ worried about you, Andrew!"

Andrew waved her off. He could get _loads_ of moping done in two days.

\--

In actuality his parents gave him four days, nearly half his holiday, to feel miserable. His chest hurt all the time as if he'd just finished crying. But when he was dragged out of his room he smiled a lot and tried to steer the conversations toward the show he'd just finished and the classes he was thinking about taking as a senior and the show he was going to direct, if he got permission from the Undergrad Theater Collective. Whenever possible he snuck off to nap, or pretended to nap so he wouldn't have to answer any questions. Sometimes he stared at his phone feeling betrayed because he'd sent Jesse approximately three million texts and got zero back. He hadn't honestly realized how much he needed Jesse until he wasn't around at all.

Friday he woke up from a nap with his brother Ben staring at him. "Life can not be as bad as all that," Ben said, which was the sort of unhelpful thing he said. Ben was thoughtful and clever and rarely got upset; Andrew was nearly always upset or giddy and he knew that was why Ben always thought of him as younger than he really was, which he hated.

"I'm fine," said Andrew, and tried to roll over and put his head under his pillow.

Ben grabbed the pillow away. "Mum says you won't talk about what's going on. Apparently you're just lying in here like a lazy slug."

"That's because it's fine," said Andrew. "Everything is fine. Go away; I'm on holiday and I can sleep all day if I want to."

"You've never been the type to lie around. You must be mostly dead or something. Now stop scaring Mum and Dad to death and get up," said Ben cheerfully, and hit him in the face with the pillow.

"Stop that, Mum didn't send you in here to hit me," said Andrew, trying to grab it back.

Ben smiled and hit him again. "She might have. Why don't you get up and find out?"

"You are such a _dick_ ," Andrew said. Ben started to swing the pillow around again and Andrew, out of years of instinct, lunged for him.

It was actually a bit cheering, knocking Ben off the bed and managing to get an elbow in his ribs, although Ben had the advantage of being older and weighing more and also having won every single wrestling match they'd ever had eventually, even if he was a cheater.

"I win," said Ben, a little bit out of breath, sitting on Andrew on the floor.

"You _cheat_ ," Andrew complained, trying to get his hand free so he could give Ben a proper bruise for his trouble. "And you're getting fat. Get off me; I can't breathe."

Ben ignored him. "Mum and Dad think you might kill yourself. I've had to tell them you're just being an idiot. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Andrew, and Ben hit him with the pillow again. "Oh my god, I hate you."

"I am prepared to sit here all day," said Ben, still sounding horribly cheerful. That was how their family reacted when things were upsetting, Andrew knew, but he still hated having it used against him. "I can wait as long as you can."

Andrew groaned. "Can't you just tell Mum I'm fine, please? Then you can go home and she can leave me alone and everyone wins."

Ben squinted at him. "Is university making you stupider? I thought it was supposed to be the opposite."

"No," said Andrew. He missed breathing and he was tired of being hit with things. "Listen, I… I just screwed things up with a friend of mine and they aren't speaking to me and it's awful because it's my fault."

"And?" Ben prompted. "Even you aren't that sensitive."

"I _really_ hate you," Andrew grumbled.

"I am prepared to tickle," Ben added.

Andrew managed to get a knee up and catch Ben in the side and make him swear, which was a little bit of a comfort. "And just… It's possible I'm a little bit in love with them."

"Aha," said Ben. "Who is it?"

Andrew had to sort of consider that answer, because while he knew his parents were perfectly aware he had occasionally done things with boys it was a topic strictly Not To Be Spoken Of between brothers. He didn't think Ben would be disgusted or anything, it was just well beyond the realm of what they were allowed to talk about before Ben made jokes about Andrew being a girl or put horribly embarrassing things on Facebook about him.

Still, Ben didn't seem likely to move. "Jesse," said Andrew grudgingly.

Ben groaned. "You must have _really_ fucked that up. No wonder you're a wreck. Have you apologized?"

"He won't answer his phone." Andrew was in danger of bursting in to tears which Ben would definitely never, ever forget or let _him_ forget. "Or answer my texts. Can we please just not—"

"Get up, then," said Ben abruptly, standing up and offering Andrew a hand. "Dad's in the shed rebuilding a computer and mum says she doesn't want him to electrocute himself."

Andrew needed a moment to take a few deep breaths and make his eyes stop feeling prickly. Ben pretended to be interested in the odd little knickknacks and kitten statues their mum had decorated the room with. Eventually Andrew said, "But I suppose it's all right if he electrocutes _us_?"

"If your hair stood on end who could tell?" Ben asked. "Come on."

"You're just jealous because you'll be bald soon," said Andrew. Ben snorted. "Is that it?" Andrew asked suspiciously. "You're done interrogating me?"

Ben shrugged. "For now. I can tell mum you aren't going to kill yourself. If he won't answer his phone you haven't tried hard enough. Don't be such an idiot. When Alex is cross with me I let her cool down before I call, especially if I've done something really stupid, which I suspect you have." Ben shook his head. "After you fix this you'd better bring him round so we can all stare at him and scare him to death. I've got loads of embarrassing stories about you to tell him. Now shall we go or do you want to wait for the smell of singed Dad, and Mum to start shouting?"

Andrew felt a bit like crying for an entirely different reason. "I hate you, shut up," he said, and then he hugged his brother.

"Ugh, get off me, stop it," said Ben, hugging him back. "Put on some proper clothes and come out to the shed before Dad connects the red wire to the black one and we have to put the roof back on like two summers ago."

\--

"You've dropped the spanner down the back," Ben said.

"Yes, well," said Andrew, shrugging, "that means dad can't use it to break anything else, doesn’t it? You ought to be thanking me."

Ben grumbled and started pulling desks and boxes and huge piles of wires and screws and marooned motherboards out from against the wall. Their dad had left the shed to go and get tea. Andrew wasn't even a little bit repentant about having lost the spanner; he wanted tea and a break.

His phone beeped and he picked it up. "Yo, I'm paying international rates, Garfield, you better love me!" said Justin's unmistakable voice.

"Of course I do," said Andrew. "Hello. Do you know anything about computer repair?"

"Of course not," said Justin. "Okay, big news from Mila, who heard from Emma, who was hanging out with Jesse over break because she's got cousins in the city."

Andrew had forgotten who Mila was. "Right," he said. "Yes?"

"Jesse and Patrick are not dating."

Andrew's heart stopped for just a second and then he had to remind himself to breathe. He glanced over; Ben was under the desk, so Andrew let himself do a tiny, ridiculous victory dance, just for a moment. "Are you sure? You've got to be absolutely sure."

"Emma says one-hundred-percent Jesse is not dating Patrick. Apparently they decided they were always 'better off as friends,' and I'm air quoting that because that's just bullshit people say."

Andrew's heart was racing for no reason he could put his finger on. "That's fantastic," he said, and then, "Wait, that's not fantastic. Jesse's probably really upset, he's going to be furious with me when we get back if Patrick's dumped him _again_. Oh god."

"Nnnnno," said Justin, "I'm pretty sure you're basically free and clear on that one. They're _friends_ , as lame as that is. Plus, Emma, who you owe, like, your first born child to, says she spent the whole day telling Jesse how miserable you are. And he, apparently, feels totally shitty about it."

"Good," said Andrew. "Wait, no, that's awful. I don't want him to feel shitty about me. Are you sure this isn't just making things worse?" The conversation was giving him whiplash and he felt oddly nervous. He wished the spring holiday was over so he could go home and just apologize to Jesse some more in person. No matter how it turned out, whether Jesse ever wanted to date him or not, he was sure he couldn’t fix anything from another continent.

Justin snorted into the phone. "It doesn't get worse than your best friend hating you, right? This is better, dude, trust me. He knows how bummed you've been, so when you get back he'll be all set to forgive you. Then you just have to put _the moves_ on him."

"No," said Andrew, "that sounds like a terrible idea." At least, whatever Justin meant by "moves" did.

"He kissed you one time, right?" Justin asked. "And you were fucking trashed, so it's not like you were super smooth about it. Anyway, I have to go; Mila's wearing a bikini."

"Right, of course, obviously," said Andrew. Justin hung up.

Ben was staring at him, lost spanner in hand. "Has something happened?"

"Yes," said Andrew. "No. Maybe. I don't know. I need to get back to uni and find out."

"It's really lucky for you you're stuck here, I think," said Ben. "You'd just go charging in and declare your love or something."

"No, I wouldn't," said Andrew, because he didn't want to mention that he'd already done that once and it had blown up rather spectacularly.

Ben rolled his eyes. "Go and get me some tea and stop imagining you can lie to me." He made a funny, uncomfortable face. "Do I need to… You know, do you need advice about what to do when… I mean if he's stupid enough to want to be seen with you in public, when you get back do you…"

Andrew was really, really enjoying watching Ben's face while he tried not to mention sex. "Do I what?"

"Do you know all the… How all the bits go together and… And all the things you've got to do to… Ugh, god, I can't do this. If you get pregnant don't come crying to me. I'll get my own tea," said Ben, and stomped out of the shed.

Andrew sat down on the floor and laughed until he felt sick.

\--

They didn't blow the shed up but they didn't get any of the computers working, either. Not that day, and not the next. Andrew's mum made them come in for regular meals and to give them all mildly worried looks, particularly Andrew. He gave her reassuring hugs and actually meant them. Eventually Ben had to go home – something about having a fiancée made him funny about that – and Andrew and his dad went back out to the shed.

"Can you hand me that when you've finished banging on it," said Andrew's dad. "I've nearly got this working."

"You said that hours ago," said Andrew. He'd been humming tunelessly to himself, he realized, and bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't start smiling like an idiot. He'd told himself not to get overly hopeful after Justin's phone call but then he couldn't help it. Hopeful was where he lived, usually. He was starting to make vague plans as he wandered the house, stealing food and annoying his father while he tried to fix things. Jesse wouldn't like a big gesture; they made him nervous and he hated being noticed in public. Something small and meaningful was the way to go, and Andrew was wracking his brain trying to think of something special enough. It distracted him and meant he wasn't much help in the shed. "Fuck, I can't get this fucking thing out. Come _on_."

His dad gave him a mildly amused, patient look. "I'm sure the banging is helping."

"I can't reach inside the stupid case, how does anyone—" The motherboard and wires came out of the plastic casing with a satisfying snapping noise. Andrew held his arms up in triumph. He was bleeding where he'd scraped his knuckles against the table earlier and he'd banged his shins on more disassembled computer parts than he could count. He was also sweaty, which was absurd in England this time of year when one was simply fiddling with electronics.

"Certainly not with _patience_ ," said his dad.

"Couldn't be. More likely with explosives," said Andrew.

His father laughed. "I'm not sure I should be letting you help."

"Probably not; I'm rubbish at this," said Andrew cheerfully. "Can I use the soldering gun?" He tried not to bounce on his toes in case that made him seem like he'd be dangerous with something called a 'gun.'

"Absolutely not. Er," said his dad, giving him a sidelong glance. "You seem a bit less… You know, than you were earlier."

"Tall?" Andrew suggested. "Handsome? Brilliant?"

His father sighed the very, very put-upon sigh of a parent who had stopped finding Andrew funny years earlier but hadn't had the heart to tell him so. "I'll just call Ben and tell him what a brilliant job he's done fixing you, shall I? Let him take all the credit and—"

"No," said Andrew. "God, no. Anything but that. I suppose I am feeling a _bit_ cheerier."

"Good," said his dad. "I thought you'd drown us all with weeping."

"I was _not_ weeping," said Andrew, a little bit crossly. Ben had probably told him that.

"Keeping us up all night, wailing and sobbing." His dad fiddled with some wires and some other things Andrew wasn't sure of the name for. "Your mother was going to call that boy and tell him how upset you were."

Andrew winced. Having Emma tell Jesse how sad he was certainly fell under 'pathetic.' But having his mum call was one million times worse. "Don't let her. Dad, please. He'll never – Oh god, I'll never be able to go back."

"I told her not to," said his dad. "There, look, I fixed it!" He flipped a switch and stood back triumphantly. Nothing happened. Andrew clapped enthusiastically. His father glared. "I still can tell her it's a good idea, you know."

"But you won't, because secretly I've always been your favorite, haven't I?" Andrew smiled winningly.

His father sighed and rolled his eyes a little bit. "I think I'd get more done if you went back in the house."

"I'm only here a couple of days. Kindly pretend to be the loving and supportive patriarch of a family instead of a doddering old geezer who's been sent to the shed by his wife for a few hours' peace."

"I would definitely get more done if you went back inside," said his father, shaking his head.

"But it wouldn't be as _entertaining_ , would it?" Andrew asked cheerfully.

"That it would not," said his dad. He flipped the switch again. This time there were sparks.

"Oooh, it's like bonfire night!" said Andrew excitedly.

"I think I liked you better when you were miserable," his father grumbled half-heartedly and picked up the spanner to start again.

\--

Andrew was simultaneously anxious to go back to uni and terrified of what it would be like when he got there if Jesse was still mad at him. It meant he was really annoying to have around, and by the time his parents took him to the airport he could tell they were glad he was going. Not that they didn't love him – he suspected sometimes that he really was their favorite, or at least the one they worried most about – but because he'd broken half his mum's teacups and backed his dad's car into a tree entirely by accident while relating a story about American college life to one of his high school friends. Possibly he shouldn't have been gesticulating quite so much whilst driving. Ah well.

"Be good," his dad said, handing him his suitcase.

"I am," said Andrew. "At least I try."

His mum was looking a tiny bit teary. "Call us when you've sorted things out back there," she said. "And if you can't, well, I can call Jesse's mum and we can have a chat—"

"Mum, no," said Andrew, horrified.

"Just in case."

" _No_. I love you, I'll see you in a couple of months." He hugged her and then fled before she could get any more ideas about calling Jesse or his family. He clearly had to patch things up with Jesse as quickly as possibly, before parental intervention actually happened.

He was late for his flight but the plane was delayed, so he spent a long time sitting on the uncomfortable chairs in Terminal Five watching the big screens and waiting for one of them to blink up with his gate, rather than just "DELAYED."

Andrew texted Justin, _Are you back yet?_ and then _Can you pick me up I'm going to be late sorry :(((((_.

He tried to arrange himself on the padded bench so that he could relax for a few hours. He reluctantly pulled his textbook out and opened it, then groaned and put his head back and tried to pretend the book wasn't there. He couldn't read with so many flashing lights from the televisions running news overhead and the duty free shops.

His phone beeped and he picked it up hopefully, because if Justin didn’t come to meet him he was going to be hours getting home from the airport. He'd be tired and jet lagged and horribly nervous about seeing Jesse when he got home.

 _fly safe_ , said his phone, which didn't make sense until he realized it wasn't from Justin, it was from Jesse.

Andrew's mouth went dry. He wanted to text back something like _OH THANK GOD ARE YOU NOT MAD AT ME ANY MORE I LOVE YOU CAN I SEE YOU WHEN I LAND??????_ but he had the nagging suspicion that it wasn't a good idea. Usually when Jesse texted that Andrew just sent _thx_ and then some nonsense texts about the weather or his shoes. That seemed a bit flippant since he wasn't sure if this was an "I forgive you" text or just Jesse's morbid fear that a plane would crash and the last thing he'd said to someone wouldn't be properly kind.

Andrew texted and then deleted and then texted and then deleted and then finally typed _Thanks I'll be home soon I miss you lots._

His hands were shaking a little when he hit send. He hoped Jesse understood how much he meant that. He hoped Jesse knew how sorry he was. He stared at his phone until his flight was finally announced but it didn't beep again.

\--

  
Andrew had half a day to sit around and catch up on all the work he hadn't done over break but after just a few minutes Justin flopped down on the couch next to him. Andrew was a little jet-lagged and a lot nervous about seeing Jesse in class tomorrow and presumably Justin could tell because after looking at Andrew for a minute he got up again and got them each a beer.

"Okay," said Justin, settling back in. "Will it help you stop freaking out if you have a plan about how to get Jesse to love you best again? A giant banner in the dining hall, maybe, or hiring me and my a capella buddies to sing 'I Want You Back' outside his window."

"I can't even imagine Jesse's face," said Andrew honestly.

"What you should do is rush onstage during one of those poetry readings he does and go down on one knee and declare your love."

Andrew needed to finish his beer before he could even think about that. It was the sort of thing Andrew loved; he was a huge fan of dramatic declarations and loved the idea of everyone on campus knowing how much he loved Jesse. It would be hideously embarrassing and delightful all at once.

Only Jesse would hate it, and Andrew had made a little promise to himself to stop doing things that Jesse hated.

"No," said Andrew regretfully. "I don't think that's at all a good idea. I've got to make sure he likes me at all first, and then work up to convincing him that I'm really in love with him. I've got to be patient and adult about this."

Justin said mournfully, "But my a capella group could _sing_. We're really pretty good."

Andrew had heard them and he was ready to debate that. Not the singing; they were all perfectly good singers. But there was something unsettling about five nearly grown men all wearing matching outfits that were a little bit goofy. On the other hand he hated to hurt Justin's feelings. Justin might pretend not to have any but Andrew had heard him sniffling in his bedroom late at night over girls who didn't love him enough. "You lot can sing at the wedding," said Andrew.

"Really?" Justin asked, perking up. "We could do a kick-ass rendition of 'here comes the bride.' Would that be you or Jesse? You, right? I mean, no offense to your boy but you'd be way cuter in a dress."

Andrew kicked half-heartedly at Justin's trainer with his own and was mostly secretly pleased Justin thought a wedding was probable enough to joke about.

\--

Andrew walked to class with Emma, who gave him a kiss on the cheek and a comforting, "Don't worry. He feels _awful_ without you."

"I don't want him to feel awful," said Andrew guilty.

"Then go say hi and apologize," said Emma, bumping him with her hip. He stumbled a step and saw Jesse, who was really determinedly trying not to notice the two of them. Andrew had been trying his hardest not to get overly excited at seeing Jesse again but his best attempts at keeping an even-keel wouldn't have fooled anyone. And now, seeing Jesse not looking over at them, he felt his stomach start to dip.

"He's still mad at me," said Andrew despairingly.

"No one likes a whiner," said Emma firmly. "I'm late to my class. Good luck, don't worry, he loves you."

Andrew didn't want her to go but he couldn't think of a non-pathetic way to say so. She left and he hugged his satchel a little bit. There were lots of people going in to the lecture hall and they were definitely not staring at him, but the back of his neck felt all prickly and he _felt_ like he was being watched.

The only person he wanted to be watching him wasn't. Andrew took a deep breath and pasted on a smile because when he wasn't sure what to do he liked to pretend he believed things were great. He threaded his way through a few other people and rushed up behind Jesse, then stopped and almost didn't say anything, because _what was he going to say_.

Andrew blurted, "Hi! How was your break? Mine was awful. I hope yours wasn't – wasn't awful – I mean, mine was mostly awful because of you -- _oh my god_ not because of you, that sounded wrong, that's not what I meant at all."

Jesse had stopped on the stairs leading down to all the seats around the hall. Normally they sat together on the side and Jesse elbowed Andrew so he stayed awake and Andrew stole Jesse's highlighters and drew birds and trains and cubes all over his papers until Jesse rolled his eyes and pretended to be annoyed.

Andrew couldn't really read the expression on Jesse's face at the moment at all, which was unnerving, and when Andrew was feeling particularly unnerved he had a tendency to say really stupid things. "Shit," said Andrew, "shit, I'm really sorry, please tell me I haven't made it worse."

Jesse shook his head slowly. He looked tired but still amazing; Andrew wasn't entirely clear on why he hadn't realized how amazing Jesse looked before. His curls were in a riot and his shirt was a little bit the wrong size because he'd stolen it from Justin freshman year and he was rubbing one of his banged-up old trainers against the back of his other foot. "It's okay," said Jesse.

Andrew desperately, _desperately_ wanted a hug. He clutched his bag a little tighter. "If you want to go on being cross with me I don't mind, I understand," he mumbled. "I was awful to Patrick and then I was awful to you—"

"I'm the asshole who kissed someone else while I had a boyfriend," Jesse said. "You didn't make me do anything. I wanted to kiss you. That was my fault."

Andrew worked very hard not to react to that. "You _wanted_ to kiss me?" he echoed. "Um. That's… Really?"

Jesse sighed a little. "Mostly I was mad about that bullshit you said about me waiting around for you, which, I _get it_ , everyone thinks I’m a loser who's pining for you. That's fine, I'm used to being the butt of everyone's jokes, but I didn't think _you_ thought that."

In Andrew's opinion Jesse had missed the actual important part of his sentence. "But you… I mean, if it hadn't been for Patrick and if I hadn't been drunk and being so stupid about Emma, you'd have wanted to kiss me?" he asked, trying not to vibrate from impatient hopefulness.

"Andrew," Jesse said, rolling his eyes.

Oh, whoops; Andrew hadn't cleared up the bit where he'd insulted Jesse. "Oh, no no no, I never thought you were pining or a loser or any of that, I thought _I'd_ been an idiot," said Andrew hastily. Their conversation was definitely getting off track and Jesse was refusing to answer the important questions Andrew had posed. "Anyone who said that about you is an ass; I'll fight them for you, if you'd like."

"Oh god," said Jesse. "That's not a good idea. You're kind of… fragile."

"No no, you're underestimating how scrappy I am. Really I'm a brilliant fighter. I'll trick them by letting them hit me first and then cry until they go away. I've got strategy." Andrew smiled hopefully at Jesse. Jesse smiled back at him, that shy almost-smile he used when he was joking and _other people_ might have mistaken it for his normal deadpan way of talking, but Andrew knew he was joking because Andrew was in love with him.

Jesse laughed. It was the best sound Andrew had ever heard. "Haven't you been crying enough lately?" Jesse asked.

"Ouch," said Andrew, clutching his chest. "Rumors of the hours I've spent weeping have been greatly exaggerated."

"Emma seemed pretty convinced…" Jesse said, still teasing.

"My mum threatened to call your mum, as if we were at primary school," Andrew admitted. "Let's not talk about it. I'm really sorry and I won't cry anymore if you'll just say you aren't angry with me. Please?"

Jesse sighed. "I have basically never been angry with you. It was a ridiculous amount of effort just to be unhappy with you. You're really… It's really…. " He was turning pink. Andrew had never been this in love with anyone in his entire life. He really, really wanted a hug, and then he wanted a kiss, and then he wanted to push Jesse up against a wall and make sure Jesse understood _how badly_ Andrew had missed him and how he was never going to make Jesse feel bad again as long as they both lived. But the middle of a lecture was probably a bad place for that, and people were starting to settle into their seats.

"That's great," said Andrew. "That's fantastic. That's just… That's great. I won't do anything so stupid again, I promise."

"Well, no, but… Um. I can't…" Jesse made a complicated face, and he'd stopped smiling. Someone pushed past them and into the seats. Jesse looked like he wasn't sure what to do, so he sat down and started getting out his notebook and his pens and carefully arranged highlighters.

"You can't what?" Andrew asked. He couldn't be friends with Andrew? He couldn't forgive him entirely? Andrew's stomach plummeted and he tried not to let his voice shake.

Jesse waved a hand around and didn't look at him. "I can't… Um… The kissing and all, I…. I mean, obviously you're my best friend but I don't think… It's probably not a good idea."

"Why?" Andrew asked plaintively, only mildly mollified by being declared Jesse's official best friend. He sat down next to Jesse, who still wasn't making eye contact.

"Um," said Jesse. "Hey, I think class is starting."

"Jesse," said Andrew. He'd promised to stop crying all the time, so he was going to be very sensible and adult about this. "You said before that you wanted to kiss me, and you like me, and…"

The professor walked out and everyone got quiet. Andrew didn't think that was nearly reason enough to stop talking about this. "Good morning," said the professor. "I trust you've all done the reading over break and I can jump right in to our new topic."

"Jesse," Andrew whispered insistently.

Jesse mumbled something and started taking notes.

" _Jesse_ ," Andrew repeated, louder. People turned around to glare at him. He didn't much care.

Jesse elbowed him. He shoved his notebook across the fold-out desk. He'd written, _Can we just be friends, please? Anything else seems really complicated._

Friends was good, it was fine, but it was eventually going to break Andrew's heart. _ok of course YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND but I don't see why not :(((_ Andrew scribbled back.

 _Bad idea._ Jesse wrote and underlined it three times. He was pretending to pay attention to class, probably so he wouldn't have to see how sad he was making Andrew.

Andrew tried his best to nod and act like that made sense. It didn't. If Jesse wanted to kiss him and Jesse didn't have a boyfriend anymore and Jesse wasn't mad at him then it just seemed stupid to say they were going to be friends and that was it. Andrew's fingers itched to grab Jesse's hand and he kept thinking about _how great_ that kiss had been. Andrew had kissed lots of people; he knew what a great kiss was.

 _I'm a bad idea??? :(_ he wrote back.

Jesse rolled his eyes and elbowed him lightly in the side. _Don't be such a dork. I'm a bad idea. You get bored. I don't want you to get bored with me._

Andrew had no idea what to write back to that. It was such a stupid thing to think – in a million years Andrew wouldn't have been bored with Jesse, they could have the same conversation four times a day and still think it was funny. Jesse could tell the same story a hundred times and Andrew would still be captivated. He suspected they could kiss a million times and Andrew wouldn't be even the slightest bit bored.

"I won't," Andrew said. The girl ahead of him turned around and shushed him again. "I won't," he whispered insistently, glaring at her.

Jesse just shrugged and looked at his notes. Somehow he'd been taking some while Andrew hadn't heard a word the professor was saying.

 _Are you secretly still mad at me?????_ Andrew scribbled, because Jesse was ignoring him.

 _Only if you make me fail this class_ , Jesse wrote back.

Andrew wasn't going to make sad, pathetic noises to try and get Jesse to look at him. That would have been sad and pathetic. He sank down a little bit in his seat and tried to listen to the professor but it all sounded like people talking into tin cans far away to him.

He wasn't going to get bored with Jesse, and if he needed to follow him around for the rest of their years at university making sad eyes at him then he would. Eventually he'd wear Jesse down. He always had before. And in the meantime at least he had _something_. He drew a heart on the top corner of Jesse's notebook and Jesse rolled his eyes and drew a jagged black lightning bolt down the middle of it, breaking the heart in two. Andrew insistently drew more hearts exploding out of the first one until Jesse's notes were in danger of being lost under a sea of mildly lopsided hearts.

Jesse sighed a little bit and turned so his notebook was too far away for Andrew to scribble all over. Of course that meant Jesse was turned so he was leaning against Andrew a little bit, and _that_ was even better than getting to draw on Jesse's notes.

Jesse's shoulder was warm and he smelled good and Andrew leaned in just a little bit himself, pretending he was paying attention to class. This was a good start, at least. He could live with this for a while.

\--

Andrew snuck cupcakes out of the dining hall and brought them by Jesse's dorm after dinner. He had a moment of utter panic before he knocked on the door but he reminded himself that things were _fine_ now, and he could hang out like old times. And before everything blew up he would certainly have brought over a ton of cupcakes to try and distract Jesse from going over homework and eventually they would have ended up falling asleep together on Jesse's bed, which was now the holy grail of things Andrew wanted to do.

Hannibal yowled at his knock and Jesse opened the door. "Cupcakes!" said Andrew cheerfully.

"I'm not mad at you," said Jesse patiently, because Jesse had always been able to read Andrew's mind a little bit. "C'mon in."

Normally Andrew would have put the cupcakes down and moved Hannibal so he could sprawl on the bed and all over Jesse. He wanted to do that, obviously, but he wasn't sure Jesse would want him to, and he wasn't sure if he was entirely allowed to now that he was attempting to edge around to convincing Jesse to date him. He didn't want to be pushy and make Jesse stop liking him, but he also didn't want to behave as if things weren't entirely normal.

"Sit wherever," said Jesse, mind-reading again.

"Yes, I… I mean, obviously, I…" Andrew mumbled. It wasn't a very big room. There was Jesse's bed and there was the chair at his desk and there was the floor. Jesse was looking at him half-amused and a little bit uncertainly, so Andrew decided, screw it, and sat gingerly on the edge of Jesse's bed.

Hannibal glared at him through slitted eyes. Jesse tried to move the cat so he could sit on the bed, too, but Hannibal hissed and rolled on his back, claws out. "Seriously?" Jesse asked. "Do you want to just go outside?" He opened the window and Hannibal yowled again and strutted out lazily.

"Why do you keep him when he doesn't like you?" Andrew asked. Jesse settled back down on the bed next to him but not touching him. Andrew thought about inching over and couldn't decide if it was pushing his luck or not.

"He likes me okay," said Jesse, shrugging. "He's not a house cat. He wants some food and somewhere warm to sleep. I like him because he needs me."

 _I need you_ Andrew didn't say. "Cupcake? I brought chocolate. They're entirely sugar and pink frosting."

Jesse took one. "So… You want the notes you missed today, while you were doodling all over my paper?"

"Eh," said Andrew. "Was it important? I just… I missed you, how was your break?"

"Oh, um, lots of work," said Jesse. He took a bite of cupcake and got icing on his cheek. Would Andrew have leaned over and brushed that off with his thumb, before? He wanted to now. He wanted to lick it off, actually, and he was having trouble not just staring at Jesse's mouth. He was thinking about Jesse's mouth quite a bit lately. "What?" said Jesse, self-conscious. "You're… You're looking at me."

"Icing," said Andrew, voice a little bit hoarse.

"Oh," said Jesse again, brushing his mouth with the side of his hand. "Did I get it?"

That wasn't _fair_. "No," Andrew lied, reaching over, brushing the very last crumbs of pink icing off Jesse's mouth.

Jesse's cheeks were pink. "Andrew," he said, almost a whisper, just a tiny bit chiding.

Andrew dropped his hands guilty into his lap. "Sorry. I just. You were saying?"

"My vacation was mostly work, because I was trying not to think about other things. Lots of reading, lots of papers to write. I spent a couple of days with Emma. We got kind of drunk. I applied to a couple of summer internships." Jesse stopped and sighed. "I missed you, too."

Andrew nodded and tried not to look too keen and excited to hear that. Andrew was a demonstrative, affectionate person, and he was trying to tamp down on that as much as he could when all he really wanted was to wrap himself around Jesse and then never let go. It made him feel awkward, and he was never awkward around Jesse, just the rest of the world.

"How about you?" Jesse asked.

"Oh," said Andrew, trying for a light tone, "I went home, helped my father with some computers in the shed, let Ben hit me with pillows for a while. The usual."

There was a strange pause. They didn't normally have those. "It's killing you to sit all the way over there, huh?" asked Jesse finally.

"I can," said Andrew quickly. He drew his knees up and put his arms around them, trying not to get Jesse's duvet too dirty from his shoes. "I don't mind."

Jesse scooted closer. "I guess maybe I mind."

Andrew wanted to throw his arms around Jesse and bury his face in Jesse's neck, but he wasn't going to. He just leaned over a tiny bit, so their shoulders were touching. He needed hugs like other people needed air and water, but he wasn't going to press his luck.

"Thanks for the cupcake," said Jesse.

Andrew shrugged. If he said anything it was going to sound pathetic and he was happy to be in Jesse's room spending time with him, so it was better not to say anything.

"We could go over the notes from class?" Jesse asked hopefully.

Jesse was awfully predictable. Andrew didn't care a bit about the notes, but he'd happily listen to Jesse talk. "Yeah," said Andrew. "I didn't hear a word of it."

For some reason that made Jesse turn pink again a little bit. He opened up his notebooks across the bed, along with a textbook Andrew hadn't even bothered to buy. His side was still pressed against Andrew's. Andrew took that as permission to hook his chin over Jesse's shoulder. He would definitely have done that before. Jesse didn't seem to mind.

Jesse explained what Andrew had missed and Andrew nodded a lot. It made more sense when Jesse said it anyway, or maybe he just really liked the sound of Jesse's voice. He liked how warm Jesse was, and he liked how Jesse smelled. His crush was making him sort of creepy, he thought, although surely it was allowable because it wasn't just a crush.

"—so really it's just a rehash of what we read before break, even though the authors are different," Jesse said. He paused. "You're listening, right?"

"Every word," said Andrew. "I could repeat it all back, if you'd like."

"Oh. No, that's… Um, that's okay," said Jesse, coloring again. "You… Andrew, you're just so… I missed you. You're not… Um, you're not mad at me, now, are you?"

"What would I be mad about?" Andrew asked, frowning.

Jesse turned to look at him, and they were close enough that Andrew could have kissed him without leaning in at all. "Because I can't… Because I need some time," said Jesse. "But I don't want you to go away."

"I don't mind," said Andrew, feeling a little raw. "I don't want to go away. And eventually you'll work out that I really, really mean it."

"I think you do," said Jesse. "Probably. I mean. I just. I don't. I can't—"

"It's fine," said Andrew. He tried to sound like he really meant it, because he did, in a way. As long as he got Jesse somehow he was going to act cheerful about it.

Jesse smiled gratefully. "Okay. For now."

"Don't worry; I'm on my very best behavior," said Andrew. "But I would appreciate it if you could stop being so gorgeous in the meantime."

"Shut up," said Jesse, blushing. "Is there other class stuff we should go over, or…"

Andrew just wanted to stay in Jesse's room as long as possible. "Or we could watch a terrible movie on your laptop and eat more cupcakes and not talk about uni at all," he said hopefully.

Jesse laughed. "Or we could do that." Andrew gave himself a mental high-five for handling everything so well, and stomped down the tiny, whining voice that wanted to just push Jesse down onto the bed and kiss him right now. Because he suspected, beyond his natural optimism, that Jesse wanted that too, and if he just waited for Jesse to stop being worried about it eventually he'd get all that and more.

\--

Everything was awkward and a little painful, but it wasn't bad. Andrew followed Jesse around, feeling a little bit like a lost puppy, and Jesse blushed and rolled his eyes and still wouldn't put into words exactly what his vague problem with dating Andrew was.

Andrew was pretty sure Jesse wanted to date him. He caught Jesse looking at him and Jesse always blushed and stuttered and pretended he hadn't been. Andrew worked at staying a respectful distance away from the boy he loved, even though he'd always draped himself all over Jesse and demanded cuddling rights. Jesse, on the other hand, sat awfully close and smiled an awful lot and kept bumping into Andrew accidentally-on-purpose. It was lovely.

"Why won't he just let me be his boyfriend, whyyyyyy?" Andrew moaned, draping himself across the couch. It was almost more painful this way; Jesse was _right there_ and Andrew wasn't allowed to have him.

Justin said, "You're not cute when you're whining." He was just back from one of his a capella rehearsals, which Andrew strongly suspected were really just excuses for him and his weird friends to drink and dare each other to eat gross things and wear matching trousers.

"I'm cute always," said Andrew half-heartedly, because he knew he ought to. Moping and pretending not to miss touching Jesse was taking most of his energy. That and thinking about all the ways he wished he were touching Jesse.

"Listen," said Justin, "you know Jesse really, really well. Why wouldn't he just jump in to a relationship with you? He went out with Patrick, right? So there must be something different."

"He likes me more than he liked Patrick," said Andrew, and then stopped, because actually that made sense. "Wait. Wait, I think I get it. He didn't care much about Patrick one way or the other – I'm sorry, I shouldn't say that, I'll apologize later – so he could date him and it was just… It was just a thing he was doing. But he _likes_ me, so…"

"So a date with you is like, a big deal. And you're kind of super-emotional and a little bit weird and neurotic yourself, so if I'm Jesse, all my eggs aren't going in that basket for a while." Justin nodded. "Okay, we cracked the case, Sherlock. I’m gonna go to bed because I have, like, a final in the morning and I guess I don't want to fail. Don't freak out."

"I won't," said Andrew. "I'll just mope."

"Aww, dude. Are you just gonna stay up and be sad? What a great life plan."

"It's working out fine so far," said Andrew, letting one of his hands dangle off the couch so his knuckles brushed the floor.

The key was obviously to convince Jesse that… Well, whatever thing Jesse was worried about wasn't going to happen. Either Jesse thought Andrew was too flaky and emotional to be properly in love with him – sadly probable, and Andrew wasn't proud of that – or he was worried there was something wrong with _him_ which was also sadly probable. Jesse was wrong about how wonderful he was, and he had been the entire time Andrew had known him.

Andrew didn't really intend to stay up moping; he had a poetry final in the morning and a paper to write. But both of those things involved work and Andrew decided he'd just spend five more minutes on the couch before he got up to do some, and then it was hours later and his mobile phone was beeping frantically to wake him up.

It was still dark outside, but Andrew couldn't have placed the hour beyond that; somewhere between 11 pm and 5 am. He squinted and picked up his phone. "Yeah?"

"Andrew!" Jesse sounded worried and a little frantic. "Um, did I wake you up? I’m sorry."

"What's wrong?" Andrew asked, pushing himself up on his elbow and stifling a yawn. His phone said it was almost one. Too long to sleep on the couch; his neck hurt.

"Um, I'm fine, nothing's wrong, except, uh, well, I think Hannibal's kind of… Um, he's sick? And he might have been hit by a car or something, I can't tell, maybe it was just a dog that attacked him, I'm not a vet." There was something horribly tight about Jesse's voice, something panicked and tamped down.

"Oh my god," said Andrew, trying to be entirely awake as quickly as possible. He sat all the way up. "Is he alright?"

"He's… Uh, no. Not really. Um, and there's a twenty-four hour pet hospital but it's like, half an hour away and I don't… Do you know the number of a cab company or something? I kind of… I'm sort of panicked and I don't entirely know what to do." Jesse was starting to sound like he might cry, which was apparently Andrew's least favorite way for him to sound.

Andrew thought for half a second. "I've got a plan," he said. "Don't worry about the cab; it's sorted. I'll be there in two minutes."

"…how will you get here in two minutes?" Jesse asked doubtfully, but Andrew was in a rush and hung up on him. Then he grabbed Justin's car keys and ran for the door.

\--

Hannibal was fine. Well, he wasn't fine; he needed stitches on his paw and his stomach and they put one of the funny plastic cones around his neck, but he deserved some humiliation, Andrew felt, because he'd thrown up in Justin's car and then he'd tried to bite Jesse, who was only worried about him. He actually had bitten Andrew, but Andrew was pretending he hadn't because it would only upset Jesse more.

"He needs all kinds of shots and he's got no medical records," said the vet, a nice lady who clearly thought Jesse and Andrew were crazy. "You really need to bring your cat in for regular check-ups."

"Right," said Jesse nervously. "Uh. But he's okay now?" Jesse looked exhausted and miserable and he'd been holding Andrew's hand most of the night, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs of the pet hospital. It wasn't romantic, but it was comforting for Jesse, apparently, and it was _wonderful_ for Andrew.

"He's fine," said the vet. "He's very resilient. I bet he's embarrassed about the cone around his head and a big shaved spot on his side, but fine. Now, about the bill…"

"You can use my parents' card," Andrew whispered. "They won't mind." They would, actually, but then Andrew would explain that it was _for Jesse_ and he knew they'd let him get away with it, and anyway he was going to be working at a theater summer camp during the summer holidays and he could pay them back eventually.

"You already stole a car," said Jesse. "It's okay. My mom understands. Uh, I mean, I hope." He handed over his parents' card and went back to trying to stroke Hannibal, who just wanted to hide in the pet carrier and ignore all the people in the room.

"Stole is such a strong word," said Andrew. He tried to stifle a yawn. He hadn't actually planned to stay up until dawn but those were definitely the first rays of the sun outside the window of the pet hospital.

Jesse made a little agreeing noise and gave up on Hannibal for the moment. "How mad do you think Justin's going to be?"

"Oh," said Andrew, blinking. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about it. Surely he'll understand that it was a pet emergency."

"Well, sure, if he knew I had a pet," Jesse pointed out.

Andrew shrugged, because he didn't like to overthink things in case they came out badly. Justin would understand because it was Andrew and Jesse, and he would know that Andrew-and-Jesse transcended little things like having told Andrew never ever to touch his car on pain of death.

Jesse was looking at him strangely. "What?" Andrew asked. "Is something else wrong?"

Jesse shook his head. "It's fine. I um. I'm just thinking about stuff." He might have been blushing or he might have been exhausted and a little red. "Are you driving us home?"

"Of course," said Andrew. "I've got to put Justin's car back where it was and someone's got to make sure Hannibal doesn't try to claw your face off for saving his poor furry tail."

"He's not _that_ bad," said Jesse.

"He absolutely is," said Andrew. Jesse laughed a little bit. Andrew wanted to kiss him but the emergency vet's office at six in the morning wasn't the right place. Why were they never in the right place? Andrew wondered grumpily. The problem was really that Andrew wanted to kiss him all the time and if he didn't get to before the end of term he might go crazy.

Which wasn't Jesse's problem, obviously. Andrew reminded himself to be patient as he carried Hannibal out to the car and managed not to let the horrible cat scratch his finger off. Jesse trailed behind them, weirdly quiet. "I'm glad you called me," said Andrew, unlocking Justin's rusty car. He put Hannibal's carrier on the floor in the back and then unlocked Jesse's door. "I'm glad I could help tonight."

"I uh," said Jesse, biting his lip and pausing half-in and half-out of the car. "Um, Andrew, I…"

His hand was on the top of the car door, and Andrew was still holding the door handle, and if Jesse had wanted to they definitely could have kissed. Andrew would have settled for a deserted car park lot at dawn. It would make a great story for their wedding; it was a way better first kiss story than 'one time Andrew got drunk and was a jerk.'

Jesse swayed forward a little and Andrew stopped breathing, trying not to look too hopeful or two eager. And then Jesse caught himself and shook his head a little and climbed into the car.

Damn it. Andrew was too tired to keep his disappointment entirely off his face, but he shrugged one shoulder. He wasn't entitled to Jesse, and he'd deal with that somehow, even if it meant hours more of moping and a painful amount of sexual frustration.

He dropped Jesse and Hannibal off at Jesse's dorm. Kids were starting to go to class and Andrew was going to be late to his poetry class final if he didn’t hurry. "Thanks," said Jesse. "Uh, if you're not busy tonight maybe you can come by for dinner? So I can say thank you?"

"Sounds good," said Andrew. He thought about suggesting that they go out but of course Jesse had just paid quite a lot of money for his horrible cat, and anyway Andrew wasn't rushing things.

"Don't get murdered by Justin, okay?" Jesse said, picking up Hannibal. "Just… I'll see you later."

"Yeah," said Andrew. Justin wouldn't be _that_ mad, would he? It was a distracting thought, nearly as distracting as Brenda texting him _The final is starting: where are you????_ "Er, I should go, but I'll see you later, yeah?"

Justin texted a minute later, _U BETTER NOT HAVE MY CAR GARFIELD_.

Andrew considered. If he drove back to the dorm and gave Justin his car back he'd be late for poetry and probably fail. If he drove himself up to the final he'd be on time and Justin could kill him just as effectively later as he could now.

 _Just borrowed it for a bit, I'll bring it back soon!!!!!!!_ he texted, and hit the accelerator.

\--

The poetry final was easy because memorizing really sad poems was practically Andrew's hobby, and he could interpret why they were sad for _hours_ without getting bored.

Going home was a bit more fraught. When he parked Justin's car in the student lot Justin was there with two of his a capella brothers, and all of them were glaring at him. "Sorry," said Andrew, going for breezy and cheerful. He tossed Justin the keys.

Justin looked furious. "You _stole my car_. Dude, that is _not bros._ "

"Sorry," said Andrew, drooping a little. "There was an emergency."

"Like, you died?" asked Justin. "Or like, you're _gonna_ die?" That one friend of his, the hairy Italian one, tried to look menacing. Andrew pretended to feel menaced. The other guy, who was short and improbably dread-locked, was actually a little bit scary. Andrew was almost sure he should have graduated from college years ago.

"Jesse needed me to take him to the hospital," said Andrew, with his saddest face. Yes, he was leaving out a little bit of explanation, the bits about the cat, but it made Justin blink and stop looking quite so mad.

Justin pointed sternly. "You better be telling the truth and Jesse better not be dead," he said.

"I swear, he called me in the middle of the night and I just panicked and grabbed your car because I didn't know what else to do," said Andrew, which was technically mostly the truth.

"Oh. Well." Justin deflated a little. "Next time I'm gonna be really pissed, okay?"

Andrew hugged him and Justin thumped him on the back. "You're actually sort of a great roommate," said Andrew, feeling just a little bit teary.

"Of course I am," said Justin, snuffling. "Okay, go away. Me and the boys got serious business to attend to. There's an a capella throw down goin' down."

"Good luck," said Andrew sincerely. Justin and his weird friends got in the car and drove away and Andrew waved until he remembered how exhausted he was, and then he went back into the dorm and crawled under the blankets to take a nap.

\--

Andrew knocked on Jesse's door with some more cupcakes he'd swiped from the dining hall, because it had gone well the first time. "Hi," he said, "I brought cupcakes, if you want to order a pizza."

Jesse had the hood of his hoodie pulled up over his hair and his feet were bare and Andrew wanted to touch him awfully badly. He had to bite his lip and stop himself from leaning forward and doing something rash.

"I already did," said Jesse, opening the door. There was a pizza on his desk, and Hannibal was curled up in the corner on the floor, sleeping. It looked exactly like it always did – a little bit too neat for Andrew's taste and a little bit over-organized – but there was something that made Andrew hesitate just for a minute. Jesse was looking at him weirdly. Jesse had been doing that quite a bit lately. It made Andrew's stomach flop over a little bit.

"Is everything alright?" asked Andrew anxiously. "You're not cross with me again, are you? Because I don't remember doing anything wrong other than stealing Justin's car and that was _strictly_ with the best of intentions."

"No, I—what would I be mad about?" Jesse asked.

"You just keep looking at me," said Andrew. "It's strange."

Jesse bit his lip. "It is? Sorry, I – I'm trying to solve a problem." He sat down on the bed, looking into the middle distance, somewhere past Andrew.

That sounded dire. Andrew grabbed a slice of pizza and threw himself on Jesse's bed, pretending the whole thing didn't feel strange and charged, like the air was crackling a little bit. Andrew bumped his knee against Jesse's. "Tell me. I'm great at problems."

"Well," said Jesse. "But you're the problem, mostly."

Andrew had to work really hard to swallow. "Makes it easier for me to fix, then," he said, trying to sound breezy and teasing. He put his pizza back down because he was suddenly not hungry at all.

Jesse appeared to be contemplating something, and then he scooched back across the bed so he was leaning on Andrew. That was pretty normal, for them, and Andrew was glad they were going to be the sort of friends who touched. Andrew needed touch and hugs; the longer he'd gone without them the more he'd felt like a goldfish that had flopped out of its bowl.

"Emma says I'm in love with you," said Jesse. He just… He just _said that_ and Andrew forgot to breathe. "I'm sticking to my story that you're, y'know, okay or whatever. If anyone asks."

"I'll settle for 'okay or whatever,'" Andrew agreed, breathless. "Jesus, Jesse. This is the _problem_?"

"Well. I've been trying to figure out if she's right or not. But I mean, the real problem is… The problem is that I… That you are so important… And I can't just… "

Andrew snuck his hand into Jesse's. "Right," he said. "Makes sense." His hand was shaking a little bit.

"Really? Emma said I was talking total bullshit."

Andrew laughed. "Emma might be right, at that. I mean… If you want me, I'm here."

Jesse sighed a little, leaning on Andrew's shoulder. "Is there a word for when you want something really badly but at the same time you're totally terrified of it?"

"Er. You're the one of us who knows all the words," said Andrew, and then mumbled, mostly to himself, "Why hear'st thou music sadly? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy: Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly?"

Jesse frowned thoughtfully. "You mean, why am I overthinking something that's potentially going to be good?"

Andrew nodded.

"I don't know," said Jesse, almost-whispering.

"I wanted to do something huge and important to tell you how much I like you," said Andrew uncertainly, voice cracking a little bit. "Have Justin sing you a song or jump on stage at your poetry reading or something."

Jesse chuckled. "That would have been awful. You know what you did that was better?"

Andrew shook his head.

"You came and got me and my cat in the middle of the night, in a stolen car. You don't even _like_ my cat," said Jesse wonderingly.

"Well, I mean, of course—" Andrew started, and then Jesse kissed him.

For a minute Andrew was so startled that he didn't do anything, and then his brain caught up with what his mouth was already doing and he lurched forward, burying one hand in Jesse's curls and grabbing his hip with the other hand so he could balance himself, crawling forward into Jesse's lap. They'd done this before but _this_ time no one was drunk or heartbroken or going to regret it in the morning.

Andrew tried to somehow make it clear that this was what he wanted, that Jesse was exactly who he wanted and who he was going to want, and that no matter what happened he wasn't going anywhere unless Jesse made him. It was a lot for one kiss. Jesse's glasses got knocked sideways and he was clutching Andrew's jumper, blunt nails digging into Andrew's back.

"You're kind of… You're on me," said Jesse finally, laughing a little. His glasses were fogged up and Andrew's hands had made his hair look a riot. He imagined his own hair probably looked absolutely ridiculous.

"I am," said Andrew happily. "That's alright, isn't it? Being here? I'm not going anywhere, in case you wondered." He had his arms around Jesse's neck and he wasn't actually planning to untangle himself from around Jesse anytime soon.

"It's… I mean…" Jesse said, blushing and squirming underneath him just a little bit. Jesse was enjoying himself; Andrew could feel it. He wondered how many dates it would take to get Jesse out of his jeans. Probably a hundred at least. Andrew mentally circled a date on the calendar sometime at the end of the summer.

"You'll go out with me now, won't you?" Andrew asked. He'd given up trying not to sound eager; he _was_ eager and Jesse clearly knew it. "I _won't_ break your heart. I won't do anything to make you sad ever again, I swear."

Jesse was blushing harder, which was absurd and adorable. "Of course you will," he said. "I mean, that's life. But you—I mean, as long as we both _try_ I guess it's – I mean, if you want to, even though you're practically my only friend and if it goes wrong I'll probably have to kill myself—"

"It won't," said Andrew confidently. "It'll be exactly like it was before, only with _sex_."

Jesse hid his face in Andrew's shoulder and groaned.

"Really spectacular sex," Andrew promised. "Amazing sex. Eventually, I mean, because I'm not rushing you or anything, but getting you naked is basically the only thing I think about at all, anymore."

"Please don't say that, I can't – No one wants that, I can't imagine you thinking about that, I—"

"I've seen you _practically_ naked," Andrew argued. "Anyway we can worry about that later." He coaxed Jesse to look up and then kissed him again, a little bit harder and more demandingly. Jesse moaned a little and let Andrew lick his way into his mouth. Andrew's heart felt like it was going to hammer its way out of his chest and he moved his mental get-Jesse-naked date up a couple of weeks. He wished Jesse wasn't wearing a sweatshirt and then realized that probably Jesse had done that on purpose, hiding in a sweatshirt in case something went wrong.

Andrew made himself pull back. It was hard, because Jesse was flushed and dark-eyed and his mouth was red and bitten-looking. Andrew made a note to himself to bite Jesse's lips. "You know I’m serious about this," he said. "I'm not really serious about anything; I try but I'm just… I'm so silly and sensitive and absurd and I don't mean to be but I can't help it. But I'm really, really serious about _you_. I don't know why it took me so long to work out what I wanted but it's you, and it's been you forever, and I should have known."

Jesse shook his head, curls bouncing, blushing again. "You're kind of crazy," he said. "But um. Okay. If you're sure. I mean… You've always been… Emma is right, I think."

Andrew beamed at him. "That you're in love with me?"

Jesse shrugged and smiled and bit his lip.

"I'm _madly_ in love with you," said Andrew reassuringly. He kissed Jesse's cheek and then got distracted and kissed his jaw and then his neck. If Jesse hadn't been wearing a sweatshirt he would have worked his way down Jesse's shoulder, too.

"Dinner?" Jesse said a little hesitantly. "The pizza's going to get cold."

"Can't I just have _you_ for dinner?" Andrew asked.

Jesse rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. "Oh my god, are you going to be this cheesy all the time?"

"Yes," said Andrew happily. "You like that about me, right?"

"I think probably I love it," said Jesse, and kissed him again. Eventually the pizza got cold. Neither of them cared.  



End file.
